Occasionally, there are days when inspiration fails.
Running solo is a special weekend treat for me, since most of my workouts these days are done with a jogging stroller.
However, my husband has some extra things going on with his work right now, which entails him being gone weekends and odd hours (which means his parenting services are unavailable during those times).
Thus, although I usually prefer to get up early and hit the trail before seven in the morning, today I ended up hitting the trail at around four in the afternoon. This would be okay, except that I live in South Texas and it’s still around 90 degrees at the hottest part of the day.
Honestly, I’m kind of a wimp when it comes to running. Heat greater than 80 degrees usually deters me from running outside. So does cold less than 50 degrees. Also, I just don’t run in winds greater than fifteen miles per hour. Period. Sometimes, I gauge the windiness by how far the trees are bending outside, and if I don’t like that, I don’t go.
Today, however, I thought, “But what will I write in my blog? I feel thoughtless and uninspired. I must run to get the creative juices flowing.” I guess I should have considered that running in 90 degree heat might have just the opposite effect on me. And it did.
So instead of blogging about all the wonderful thoughts I had on my run, I vow that later this week I will revisit the original focus of my blog, religion and meat (“wait, WHAT?” you ask? You can read about it in my first post.)
And for now, here is a haiku:
My head pounds with each footfall
Thoughts crushed underfoot