Hey you beauty cats.
After a weekend of solid rain this is what we have been gifted on this otherwise ordinary Monday:
Everywhere the trees look like they are fire-kissed, fresh out of the autumn oven.
Leaves litter sidewalks and parking lots, an electric collage of reds, oranges, yellows, purples, and greens.
They are maple shaped, multi-coloured cobblestones that crunch (not clatter) underfoot.
For myself, after two days in a row of running in an absolute deluge I am fit to bursting with excitement to get outside and stretch my legs in the sunshine.
While there is always something to be said for running in the rain, I made the absolute worst mistake on Sunday afternoon.
I wore WAY too many pieces of clothing.
To make matters worse, I not only managed to cook myself alive, but did so despite running in what was, for all intents and purposes, a gigantic, omnipresent shower stall.
(With the water set to FULL BLAST.)
Not even an actual, real-live ice cold shower post-run could sufficiently bring down my core temperature, and for a good portion of the afternoon afterwards I was plagued by residual (and random) heat attacks.
Lest it need repeating – shedding clothing (at the drop of a hat) in public is not the defining character trait I aim to cultivate.
On the bright side, at least I will be a seasoned veteran of these things by the time menopause rolls around.
So how, exactly, did I end up dressed for Siberia (despite encountering Seattle), sweating my little face off?
I made the mistake of assuming that the massive fog bank that had rolled in that morning would be a pretty good indicator of what was happening outside temperature-wise, and as such, was duped into thinking that winter wear was a must.
What can I say? I see fog, I think freezing.
Boy was I wrong.
But as they say, live and learn!
Live and learn.
I’m actually glad I’m making these mistakes now, and not come the 18th – as a hardcore over-heat on race day is pretty much my worst nightmare ever (and definitely much worse than going into a run under-dressed, because when that happens at the very least you can just run faster to warm yourself up.)
Dudes, I am so excited to run in this race.
First, there is something so delicious knowing that it is only ten kilometers long.
The last three competitions I’ve entered have all been half-marathons (where ten km doesn’t even count for the half-way mark) so I am practically giddy knowing that once I reach the 7km sign I am pretty much at home plate.
And while I do, of course, hope that the rains stay away, I can’t help but wish that come race-day, when the gun goes off, the temperature is on the colder side.
Just enough so that I can wear my sweet, sweet running pants (the ones that keep my legs feeling limber and lithesome, and that trick my limbs into thinking I have swaddled them in feathers and fleece).
(Plus, being the good Canadian girl that I am, I never give up the chance to wear a sweet toque.)
Second, my amazing and hilarious friend Alannah is also racing and THIS WOMAN IS SO FUNNY I HAVE ABS BECAUSE OF HER.
I can only imagine the post-run hijinks that will ensue.
And finally, well, I seem to be on some kind of perpetual runner’s high (hot flashes be damned) and I’m just stoked about competing on a new course, with new people, in a new season.
Variety and spice, and all that, right?
What about you folks?
Do you prefer to run in the heat or cold? And what pieces of clothing make braving the elements just that little bit easier?
You can tell me all about it, once I get out of the shower.