I have been dragging myself around for days, weeks, it feels like months although I know, intellectually, it has not been quite that long.
It is HOT.
Now, the real definition of a heat wave is three consecutive days of 90+ temperatures. For those of you who use the Metric System, 90+ degrees is M*F'in' HOT.
It has not, for the most part, technically been heat waves (although I think we might hit one this week. We also had one when this nonsense started, back in mid-June). But it has been over 80, 85 most days, and it has been humid. The air is like thick, plain oatmeal. You can stand a spoon in it.
And so, of course, what did I do last weekend?
Heh, I ran my 30th 5K.
The time was godawful; the third-worst time I have ever had. I am also heavier than I have ever been for a 5K. As in, when you compare to the lightest I was for a race, I am 56.8 pounds more.
Funny thing is, I don't look huge.
Now, I don't say I look skinny by any means, but I don't look like I'm in love with the buffet at Denny's, either. This was how I was in Junior High, and High School, and into much of college and Law School. Densely packed. A surprise inside, perhaps, like a fortune cookie, eh?
A big part of that is strength training. I see people lifting 5 and 10 pound weights and I am supportive, yanno, but I last lifted a 10 pound weight for a workout back when I was recovering from abdominal surgery. Back in '10.
What do I lift now?
45 pounds, folks.
Why that amount?
Well, the thing of it is, any higher and I start to leave the realm of hand weights and hit the realm of big honkin' barbells. And I don't have the room or the budget for same.
When I was doing the gym, I was lifting more. But the gym is also not in the cards right now. Too much of a cash sink right now. I just can't justify it in the budget, even if I live there.
So I take my preexisting iPod and hand canteen that I won in the after-race raffle after one of my 5Ks, and wear my sneaks and my shades and a Red Sox cap and a tee or a halter top and cargo shorts and little New Balance socks and I go out there into the fiber-rich miasma that is Boston and I swim past the people who are panting as they barely move from air conditioned house to air conditioned car to air conditioned office to air conditioned restaurant to air conditioned gym (maybe) and then, eventually, back to air conditioned house.
I go out there and I do it. I am s...l...o...w in the heat, but that's to be expected. I also only do somewhat short stints. It's generally 30 minutes or so, rather than the usual 80 (no wonder I've gained weight). At home there is a fat free yogurt and a 90-calorie fiber bar that I have stowed in the freezer and will make my fillings rattle and will, hopefully, cool me down a bit.
And then tomorrow I get to do it all over again.
And I say "uncle" to no one. Not to those who look at a woman who weighs nearly 230 and cluck and disapprove and wonder why I'm not hidden away somewhere. Not to those who think it's too hot to do ANYTHING, because even one small thing is something. Not to those who just do the air conditioner glide from house to car to office and around, almost as if they were in one large, temperature-controlled human Habitrail.
But I am getting awfully tired of the heat.
So, heatwave and near-heatwave gods? Let's have a mini-surrender, mmmkay? Otherwise I'll need to go out and buy more halter tops, and I am not so sure my public is ready for that yet.