It was not hot today. Not at all. Quite the contrary, actually.
I was beside myself with happiness on my run, I had to hold myself back a bit. I ran to the park, over the bridge, and through the woods to Belle Isle. I was hardly even thirsty. Maymont Park was having its 1st Jazz Fest, with some pretty big names and ticket prices to match. But the great thing about outdoor concerts is that you can stand 100 yards away from the stage, outside the entrance, and still hear the music loud and clear. Only you don’t have to buy a ticket. So that’s exactly what I did, stopping for a bit in neighboring Byrd Park, and enjoyed some tunes.
I continued running, rejoicing in the fact that I was finally getting a break from the heat. It must have been about 75, maybe 78. Or so I thought. I checked the weather when I got home. I couldn’t believe it – 89 degrees. Where I’m from, 89 is HOT. Very hot. And then it hit me – I’m not from where I’m from anymore. A summer down here has officially made me into a crazy Richmonder who thinks anything below 95 degrees is mild. It seems that those of us who stay here for the summer love the hot weather; it’s all we ever talk about.
I realized with mixed emotions that I could have had 3 months of wonderful summer running weather had I spent the summer back home in Maine. I’ve got to admit I felt nostalgic for a minute, even regretful. That soon passed, however, when I realized how much tougher and better-prepared I felt for having spent the summer training in temps consistently above 95. But I have to say, after so many 105 degree training runs, today felt pretty damn refreshing. A jump in the pool after an evening in the hot tub.
Who knows, I may even sleep without my AC on tonight!