Unfair to Dogs

To call these the Dog Days of Summer is patently unfair to dogs. (Yes, I know, they're named after Sirius, the Dog Star, prominently featured in the summer sky in the northern hemisphere. But still.)

To say this weather is a bitch is likewise unfair to bitches, some of whom are dogs.

I've lived in DC for nearly a dozen years now, and this is the most appallingly miserable summer I've seen yet. We've had hot, we've had humid, we've even had hot and humid, but I do think that this is by far the MOST HOT & HUMID I've suffered through yet. I mean: when the freakin' dewpoint is in the upper 70s for days on end, sumpin ain't right.

All this is encouraging me strongly to think about getting out of dodge the week of my birthday. Preferably somewhere cool. And cheap.

Any suggestions?

The Suckage of Crutches

I would just like to say that, despite any previous commentary to the contrary, it is not necessarily the case that it's worse to be on crutches in winter than in the summer.

Yes, ice and snow are evil hazards, and one's hands are likely to be chilly, and it's tough to manouevre with bulky clothing on.

BUT, consider the horrendous chafing of tender arm-flesh exposed to the cruel wood and rubber! The heinous burden of heat and heave as one swings the dead weight of one's lower body under the sweltering sun! The cruelty of thumping along like Igor while everyone else is sauntering or strolling or sprinting in fine weather.

Oh, what's the use: Crutches just suck year 'round.

Good News/Bad News

The good news is that I had a very successful Rockville Rotary Twilighter 8K, running a 11:02 pace despite thunder, lightning, and torrential downpour... and a severely sprained foot which I acquired in the first three minutes of the race.

I am a chowderhead for not dropping out of the race immediately at that moment, but I was so pumped with adrenalin, and then high on endorphins, that I didn't realize how badly hosed my foot was until I crossed the finish line and couldn't walk. And yes, it was the SAME foot that I've injured repeatedly.

Fortunately, Andrew was there and got me some ice to apply and gave me a lift to my car, which saved me from a lot of additional agony.

So now I'm back on crutches, and probably out of the running running (as it were) until Fall.

Damn it!

300 Miles

Just thought I'd note that this morning, having crawled from the crypt at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am, I passed the 300 mile marker on an eight-mile trot.

My next run will be my 50th since resuming on February 12th. Despite various lingering aches and pains, there's little doubt in my mind that running is making a tremendous contribution to my overall well-being. Not to mention that, if my records are correct, were I not running I would weigh 5.5 more pounds than I do today.