‘Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree,…’*
If any of you are English majors, you’d recognize that as one of the best-known opening lines in literature. And the author was blind when he composed it; he’d probably be on the Achilles Running Team if he were around today (whoops, another reference to epic literature, it’s not intentional).
So this morning we in the NY area were treated to an amazing weather light show that got me thinking of the fireworks that accompanied the fall of… Satan. I know, I don’t know how I come up with this crap, either. But the wind and rain and lightning that hit us (oh, and a possible tornado in Brooklyn?) was straight out of Industrial Light and Magic. It was serious business, and the roads instantly flooded and the subways turned into, here we go, Dante’s Inferno. I half expected to look out the window and see Satan coming down to join us right after getting kicked out of the Hair Club for Men.
BUT, the skies soon cleared, and after a short delay, I made my way out to Central Park for a tempo run. Oh, I know it’s hot out there, but I’m used to it, and the thermometer just says 88, it’s not like… and then wham!, the wall of humidity hits my post-race hubris and I’m gasping for air. Damn! It’s hot in herre, Nelly.
But I’m a Machinedamnit, I can do this, so what if I only see three other runners in the first ten minutes? And off I go, two miles easy, followed by the first 20-minute tempo run. And my brains starts to say: ‘Jeez, it’s really hot, wonder why I don’t see anybody, I hope I don’t chafe my….. oh good, there’s a cloud, now I can gessome shade….. if I can juss maykih too thuh next wawa founta, I’ll beeawri…. rojpsoduf…. oshjgohjoi…..mmmmbopppppp….’
So my brain begins to fry, just like in that ‘Silence of the Lambs’ sequel kitchen segment. But the legs keep going, and God, or Satan only knows how I could finish the first 20-minute tempo section. With a ten-minute easy interval, I’m scheduled for one more 20-minute session, but the legs say no, no, no, and I hang it up after 6 miles. You know it’s too hot to run when you can wring quarts of sweat out of your shorts WHILE YOU’RE WEARING THEM. I ain’t lyin’.
So if any of you experienced Doppler radar drama this morning, followed by a wet heat that could deep-fry a runner’s brain, then you know what I mean. Next time, I’m staying home and re-reading *Paradise Lost.
5 comments:
One of the guys in the office went out for a run at noonhour and nearly collapsed. I suppose I could relate after yesterday's almost 5 miler during which it was hotter to stop running than it was to run at a relatively fast pace (for me at least). I'm pretty sure I lost a few liters of bodily fluid during the ordeal...
Paradise Lost and Tornados ... now there's a combination I never expected.
Man, you are coming straight from Hell...how can you manage???
Nothing like running with 10 other nutjobs at noon. It was a nice break today. Oddly, though, nary a runner in view on my path.
Good job sweating out half your body weight. Head to a Weight Watchers meeting now and then next week wonder how you gained ten pounds!!!!1111!!!!!
I know exactly what you mean about the shorts. (Pretty embarrassing cuz I'm a girl).
You're damned tenacious! I would have said, "this sucks!" and started walking about, say, 20 seconds into a run like that. Even getting out 20 minutes is quite a feat.
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