I don't think she was flirting with me. I think she was acknowledging that we both suffer from the same sickness. You see, she had exercise clothing on, too. For all I know, she might have just come back from a workout at the gym. Mind you, this is before 7 a.m. As Met first baseman Lucas Duda said about playing yesterday in 90-plus degree heat, "It's freaking hot out there!"
Of course, that's why I was out jogging before the rest of my household (other than the cats) was awake. It's freaking hot out there and getting hotter!
Why is it that joggers feel the need to get those miles in, mile after mile? Is it a madness derived from wanting to know how far we've gone? I mean, most joggers I know keep logs of either time run, miles run, or both. Or is it possibly because we have some undisclosed need to torment our bodies? No, I don't think so. If I did, I'd be like I was in high school and run in the middle of the day during days like this, running sans t-shirt in the hope that I might impress someone. To my knowledge, the only remarks I ever heard were about how stupid it is to run in such deadly weather.
I don't run as far or as long as I did just a few years ago. Kids'll do that to a guy. Probably to a woman, too. But I still long to put those miles down, to mark the steps taken. To know that, for at least a half hour or so, I pushed myself on this day, despite the obstacles.
Crazy. It's just too freaking hot out there.
Stay cool, everyone!
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