I can't just not run. Not running isn't an option. Even when I am dead, I will find a way to run. I think we established long ago that I am a runner through and through, but just in case you haven't caught on just yet, check out this Pinterest board of mine.
Now that we've removed any doubt, I will tell you good news. As it turns out, it's actually good to have a second pair of shoes to alternate with--you get a little more life out of them when they're allowed a little break every so often. You can't really blame them. I'd want a break too, if I had the job of a running shoe. So new plan: one pair for the summer, and I'll be able to alternate once I locate my missing pair somewhere in the depths of my Utah things.
The trouble with getting new shoes is that I feel the need to take them on a run right away. I mean, look at these babies--they deserve to know what life is. Tomorrow is Sunday, and they just couldn't wait all the way until Monday morning. So, even though it was 90 degrees, I laced them up for the first (and only--I never untie my running shoes) time and took my first beautiful steps with my new best friends.
Then we kept going for four more miles.
And you know, it was glorious and all. I've missed running--this was my first real run since my marathon. (Oh hey, did I tell you I ran a marathon? June 9, 2012. 4:06:17. It was a blast. I'll get back to you on that.) I powered up High Valley with the sun blazing down, and I thought about how great it feels to start pulling myself back together after 10 months of college unraveling. But I learned something very distinctly.
I've always known that humidity makes everything in general more wet. (Like the toilet tank, for example. There is condensation on the toilet tank.) I knew it makes you feel like you never dried off after taking a shower, and I knew it makes you drip about ten times more sweat than you would where it evaporates off you in half a second. But I got a good laugh when a Fleet Feet worker came in the store and said to his coworker, "It's like a freaking desert out there--it's so hot and dry! The air just has no moisture in it." No, sir, Connecticut is not a desert. And until the entire state erupts into wildfires, I will stand my ground. Because here, it takes about three steps before I am absolutely dripping with sweat. To be entirely honest, that was a fantastic feeling--sweat pouring down my face as I took step after burning step, pushing my way up that enormous hill. It's been too long since I pushed myself just for the sake of it. Somewhere along those four miles, a found a piece of myself I had misplaced in the hustle and bustle of life.
Still, I think I'll wake up before the sun for my run on Monday. And every day after that.