Hot Running is Not Nearly as Fun as Hot Yoga

I went for a hot, muggy run this morning.  As I started out, I thought it's 5 AM there is no way the air can already be this muggy. But, yes, it was.  With every breath I took, I felt like I was gulping a gallon of water into my lungs.  Painful and not fun.  I did 2.00 miles, but in 27 minutes 14 seconds, because I kept stopping to walk.  Now I remember why I stopped running last summer, oh, besides the stress fracture.

Speaking of injuries, my leg is about 50,000 times better.  And my hip.  I've been working out five times a week, and I've been doing weights, and I think I finally developed the strength in the muscles to work out the pain in both places. 

With my hip, I couldn't even do criss-cross apple sauce for about three months, but I diligently did some exercises I found online and I did the hip abductor and abduction machine at the gym.  Totally fixed the problem.

I love exercise.  Seriously, what better thing can you do for your body and your mind?  I always find when I start exercising my mood increases. I'm nicer.  I'm less stressed. 

And speaking of less stress, I'm reading an excellent book for my book club right now: 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works--A True Story.  Forgive the long title, but seriously, this is what the book is all about.  Dan Harris, a correspondent for ABC news, went on a little journey of self-discovery in this book which is autobiographical, but also teaches you how to manage the negative thoughts in your head.  The first page, he says "I initially wanted to call this book The Voice in My Head Is an Asshole."  How many people can relate to their inner asshole? 

Seriously, when I run my voice is such a jerk.  The voice in my head tells me I can't do it, it' too hot, I don't want to go any further.  Am I the only one who has the voice of a four year old whiny child?  It's as if we grow up, but the voices in our head stay small immature children.  They're narcissistic, selfish, one sided voices, who usually seem hell bent on destroying every aspiration you have.  I'm not huge into self-help, and so I really didn't think I would like this book, but Harris finds peace through meditation and being mindful of his thoughts without being obsessive.  I think that's something we could all stand to do.  Be mindful of our thoughts, be mindful of our reactions to others, and be mindful that we never ever know what someone else is feeling, thinking, or how they might react.  After all, they probably have an asshole in their head dictating their life too. 

So today when I was running, and the voice would tell me to stop running, I kept running.  I told the voice, "Ok--that's a nice thought, but I'm going to at least run to that stop sign before I fall over wheezing and die."  I fought against the voice, and I was mindful those thoughts were there, but I didn't let myself associate with the thoughts.  Hard to do for someone like me who is constantly living in their head!  But a good exercise in controlling myself and using the power of mindfulness!

Dog Days of Summer

The coffee didn't automatic brew this morning, so I'm sleepily typing.  I hate it when I walk into the kitchen and the aromatic smell of just-brewed coffee doesn't hit me at 5 AM.  Oh well, you know what they say about best laid plans.

When I was little, all summer long I ran around outside.  I remember sitting on the couch reading when I was eight or nine, and my mom coming in and forcing me out of the house.  I used to run around the neighborhood, playing with girls younger than me and older than me, picking up a baseball or wiffle ball game in the front of someone's house, going down to the high school and exploring the parking lot, and getting really dirty. 

I remember one summer when I was much smaller, my brother told me he buried a bunch of army men in the red dirt pile.  We had this pile of red dirt that was just past the spot where the big brown van was parked, and we weren't really allowed to play there.  Red dirt stains (badly).  I sat there, probably for three hours digging in that dirt looking for those army men.  I think I found two, and I ruined my clothes.

One summer day, my sisters and I were swimming and the neighbors climbed the fence to yell at us.  They were boys and mean ones at that (who have since apologized for their behavior as errant children), and they were so jealous of the fact that we had a pool and they didn't.  They had a friend over, and she tumbled right over the fence and broke her arm. 

So many memories...

Summer is different for my kids, because I work.  They don't have days of free time spent gallivanting around a neighborhood.  They basically go to school and once a week they enjoy the swimming pool at my parents' house.  

On the weekends, I encourage him to hop on his bike and ride to the end of the street or explore some of the empty lots.  He'd rather relax in front of the TV or complain when I ask him to work on his summer reading! 

I figure once Number Two is old enough to go exploring with him, he'll take me up on the offer. 

Those hot days of summer held such wonderful memories for me, and I'd love my kids to have memories like those as well.