Hot Air Like a Wet Blanket

The Philadelphia Inquirer ran a story about the heat yesterday where they used this line, which I had put into an entry a few days ago. They must have mugged this phrase off of me. Then again, maybe my prose is devolving into hackneyed journalistic cliches.

Either way, it continues to be an apt metaphor. Ran this morning at 6 with E. for the first time in awhile. We ran down to Cobbs Creek and around the Fernwood Cemetary but decided to turn back at 67th St. instead of going the extra bit to Woodland. No point in doing the full ten this morning.

I'm writing this while waiting to cool off. The problem is, without airconditioning, I just start sweating again as soon as I get out of the shower. Pretty sad when you go to work just to suck up the air conditioning.

Anyway, I guessed it was 9 miles, but mapping it shows that it is 9.4, but that is conservative as I cut short some of the off road stuff that this loop has. Sadly, E has fallen victim to the obsessive lure of mapping out race routes on sueandpaul.com (and click on the last link) and which has already snatched the allegiance of IC. And, scared as I am to say it, I've now been sucked in to trying it, so check out here if you want to see this morning's loop. The power of negative peer influences.

Call it 9.5 miles and I don't have a time for it this morning. For at exactly 31:52 into the run at the stables E & I were charged at by two galloping Great Danes coming up the path towards us barking through bared teeth. We froze and just stood there, and E had the sense to yell back at them, which stopped them until the owner caught up to them and restrained them. For some reason I still had the wherewithal to stop my watch during this sobering interlude, but then forgot to start it up again.

So, folks, a moment frozen in time.