It's Getting Hot in Here
... So take off all your clothes! Well, not all of them, but perhaps your shirt while you’re running—I’m back to tell you guys all about my summer running adventures, which have been full of triumphs, struggles, and thunderstorms, but mainly lots and lots of sweat.
Running in the summer is a whole different ballgame. I’ve talked a little bit about it on my Instagram micro-blog, but I wanted to devote a post to it today so that all you other runners out there pounding pavement this summer know you’re not alone in your misery! Plus, it’s just been a big hurdle in my life lately.
So, yes, running this summer has been an adventure for me, a not-all-good, not-all-bad lesson in the importance of proper hydration and sunblock. This morning, I set out to do an eight mile “long run” but stopped after seven due to exhaustion and being extremely hot. Last week, however, I ran nine miles and felt amazing. I guess you just never know what you’re going to get. Before I really dive into this discussion of me constantly and profusely sweating though, I’ll preface it with some contextualizing information.
I spent pretty much my entire life until college growing up in Massachusetts, which, for anyone who is not aware, is a very different climate zone than Williamsburg, Virginia. On the August morning that I moved into my un-air-conditioned freshman dorm on William & Mary’s beautiful campus, it was ninety-five degrees and ninety-eight percent humidity at ten in the morning. I distinctly remember wondering if I’d made a mistake. On the first day of classes as I trekked the fifteen minutes across campus from my subprime dorm location to the academic buildings, I recall wishing I had worn a tank-top instead of a t-shirt because my armpit sweat was so painfully visible. But, after spending the past three years here, I figured I had gotten used to it. Little did I know that June, July, and August are a totally different story than the other nine months of the year.
When I think of “hot,” the first thing that comes to my mind is the desert, maybe out in Arizona or something [I have Phoenix saved on my weather app to make me feel better about the temperatures here]. But that’s a totally different kind of heat than we get in Williamsburg. Not only is it hot, but it’s also humid. Think walking-through-bathwater, can’t-tell-where-my-body-ends-and-the-air-begins type of humidity. And you can’t avoid it! Last week, I woke up at 6:30 in the morning one day in an attempt to beat the heat, and somehow it was one of my hottest runs all week. There’s just no telling what the weather is going to do.
As someone who started running in December and trained through the winter for a half marathon in March, I’m sure you can imagine how this might be kind of jarring. Sure, I did some low key running last summer with my sister of distances under three miles, but that was back in Massachusetts where waking up at seven is enough to get you a humidity-free, crisp-sixty-degrees-out kind of run. That said, even as I complain about the Williamsburg heat and struggle to find the motivation to run as much as I want to, there are definitely some redeeming qualities to Virginia in the summer.
I’m a sucker for workouts that totally kick my ass [how else would I have stuck with rowing for two-and-a-half years? Masochism much?]. Sure, it can be challenging to get yourself to the gym or outside for a run, but once you do it and you’ve reached that point where it seems like you couldn’t possibly push yourself any harder—that’s when you get the opportunity to surprise and challenge yourself, and the subsequent feeling of hard-earned success is pretty hard to beat. Not every part of your fitness needs to be that way [you know I’m a big fan of Chilling Out on the Elliptical and Calling it a Workout], but I definitely find happiness in that “f*ck yeah, I really did that” sensation. For me, summer running calls for a little more gritting my teeth and talking myself out of turning around and finding pleasure in the sometimes cleansing properties of extreme sweating [which should be my personal Olympic sport].
This seems so contradictory! I sat down with my laptop fully intending to complain about how tired I am of the Williamsburg heat and how I can’t wait for fall and how I really struggle with running in the summer. But now, as I’m writing this and as often happens, I’m starting to see and remember some positive times I’ve had running this summer and the benefits of continuing to push myself in this way. Side note: I think this blog helps me have a more optimistic outlook on life.
Anyway, we’ve established that summer running is hard, but also that there’s a nugget of pure joy to be found in mastering such fitness challenges. With that in mind, I want to tell you all the story of a run I recently embarked on that really exemplifies that idea for me:
A couple weeks ago, I left my shift at Baskin Robbins around five in the evening with an unprecedented amount of energy to burn [probably spurred by eating a bunch of ice cream samples during work] and about an hour to kill before heading to my other job at school. I decided to go for a quick run—I changed into spandex and a tank top, put on my sneakers, and went. So much less dawdling than usual! I just turned on my music and headed out. It was hot. Really hot, and I realized this after only about five minutes when my arms and shoulders were already damp with perspiration. Luckily, I’d avoided the sun—just as I left work, a massive dark cloud had blown in and covered as much sky as I could see. At first, I was hoping to avoid the obviously impending rain, but as I kept running and kept sweating, I began hoping desperately for a downpour to cool me off.
A mile in, still nothing. I ran into the colonial area, around the circle in front of the governor’s palace, down the brick sidewalk towards the capitol building. Suddenly, the wind picked up. I noticed the tourists abruptly clearing out, moms power-walking with strollers full of toddlers, dads ushering their kids towards the parking lots. They must have known something I didn’t, maybe heard a clap of thunder that my bouncy cardio playlist had blocked out. I kept running—and then there was a raindrop. Just one, and I almost didn’t believe it. It could’ve been a drop of sweat falling from the tip of my nose down to my arm, or a random fluke, a mistake on the part of the sky. But then there was another, and another. They were warm, not cold, but refreshing. Big droplets, splashing down onto the sidewalk, saturating it so it turned from burnt orange to deep red in a matter of minutes as the rain began to pour.
I’ve run in the rain before, but somehow this time felt different. I couldn’t help but smile, a wide, ridiculous smile that must have amused the tourists scurrying past me in the opposite direction. Rain slicked off their umbrellas every which way, and it just seemed pointless to cover oneself at all; the rain was that all-encompassing. As it kept raining, the droplets got colder, heavier, bigger. I kept running. I knew I had to get home, I had to shower and get changed for my next job, but I could have run forever. I really felt in that moment as though I could’ve never stopped.
By the time I got out of the shower after finishing my run, the rain had ceased entirely and the sun was beginning to creep back out through the clouds, reflecting off every drenched surface left behind. Leaves and grass looked greener, shinier. The lone day lily growing next to my steps seemed somehow revitalized. It rains like this often in Williamsburg—a hot, humid day followed by an early evening thunderstorm of shocking proportion, and then the return of the sun just in time for it to start setting again. And that day I had been haplessly lucky enough to get that thunderstorm all to myself in the cleared out colonial town, running because I wanted to.
For every summer run that drags on and makes me question why I even do this as I sweat through my t-shirt, I think back to that time, to all of the other runs that give me that sense of triumph. There’s a feeling somewhere in the realm of running that I’ve never gotten from anywhere else, a sort of secret, personal little success that feels so huge in the moment. It’s harder to get there in the summer, but when I do I wish I could capture it and keep it with me always. Maybe it’ll fade as I keep running and it’s not so new and exciting, or maybe I’ll happen upon it forever, from time to time, surprising me with when and where. It’s the thing that keeps me running, the fleeting sense of immense accomplishment. The I did this, I’m doing this, I’m crushing this.
Excuse the flowery writing—I hope someone out there can relate to this and I don’t seem totally crazy! However you want to express it, there’s definitely a joy in running that’s kind of challenging to articulate in words. I feel lucky that I get to experience it!
One last thing: I just wanted to mention my awesome pals that I run with at school, two of whom are abroad right now and running in Mauritius and Guatemala, respectively, and I am so inspired and impressed by them—but I also miss them like crazy and can’t wait to clock some more miles with them when classes resume in August. So many runners killing it all over the globe this summer! If they can do it, so can we! Happy summer running everyone!
