The ugly truth

I've been mostly silent about yesterday's Holiday Half Marathon in Point Clear, Alabama because my run, quite frankly, was awful.

I'm still exhausted. Sore. Exhausted. (Did I mention exhausted?) And I don't really want to talk about it. But we can't shit roses and rainbows all the time, so here's the ugly truth...

Smiling near the finish line BEFORE the race...

On Friday I mentioned that I was setting the bar low goal-wise for this race. In fact, I planned to treat it more like a well-supported training run than a race.

For my sanity's sake, I'm glad I did. I could not have raced yesterday if I tried.

I signed up for the Holiday Half a few weeks ago, thinking (Yeah. What was I thinking??) that earlier this year I could run a half marathon with a week's notice, so Why should this be any different?

Why, indeed.

Clearly I was delusional.

Delusion #1: I'm healed from my injury, and that means full speed ahead!

Reality: Aside from pool running, I did almost no running in August and September. I couldn't. My calf and foot needed time off. Unfortunately, time off equals lost endurance.

While biking is an endurance sport, endurance is not like riding a bike. You don't just get back in the game and "remember" how to run for two hours. It doesn't work that way. The handful of easy-paced 9 to 11 milers I finished in November were not enough to make up for months of low mileage.

Yes, I am smart enough to know this. (See low bar for race goals, above.) I am also smart enough to know that I can run a half marathon with 10-mile training runs. This delusion alone would not have sunk my battleship.

Delusion #2: I can handle running in the heat. I do it all the time!

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Reality: Race-day humidity at 90 percent, morning temperatures in the 70s, and bright sunshine on a mostly shade-less course are my triple Kryptonite.

And yes, I'm a Florida runner who should be used to this.

BUT (and this is where reality bites) I'm used to this in July.

The past few weeks have seen temperatures in the 40s, and my long run days were all cool and dry. The weather warmed up only days before the race, leaving me with about as little acclimation as a snowbird fresh off the plane from Minnesota.

TMI (unless you're a runner): During the race I sweat so much I could have wrung seawater out of my clothes. I drank two full 20-ounce bottles of water while on the course, chugged two cups of gatorade at the finish, and still didn't have to pee for an hour after the race.

The result:
I didn't run my slowest half ever, but my pace on the pancake-flat course was about on par with what I usually run for hilly half marathons (think Torrey Pines hill at the La Jolla Half Marathon in San Diego). S-l-o-w.

And I'm sore.

And even though I said I wasn't going to race, I'm still bummed that I didn't have a good run yesterday.

What's your worst race ever?
What's your favorite self-delusion?
How do you deal with a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad run?

Odd advice for beating the heat

Last summer was my first Florida summer. I've lived in hot places before (Hello, Phoenix!), though I'd prefer to forget about that bad-and-short-lived decision...

I won't give up running.
The Florida Panhandle won't give up being hot and humid.
So summer running and I have had to come to an understanding.

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Here are some of the tricks I use to help beat the heat:

• Carry a frozen water bottle. The bottle gets bathwater warm by mile 3, but at least I have cold water for the first 20 minutes or so.
• Wear a headband to keep the sweat out of my eyes.
• Chew mint gum. Sounds crazy (be careful not to inhale the gum!) but it does have a psychological cooling effect.
• Run very early in the morning.
• Move to the treadmill when temperatures rise into the mid-90s.
• Take walk breaks. Yes, folks - I'll take a walk break from time to time on the hottest days. You can call me a wuss if you want, but I know my limits. That's not wussy. It's wisdom.

I thought my list was pretty solid, but every once in awhile someone gives a little advice that seems counterintuitive.

Miss Zippy provides some guidance on acclimating to the heat (which I, admittedly, do - but I don't often write into my list of "beat the heat" strategies.

To date, the award for "strangest advice anyone has ever given me" goes to the gentleman I met at Jazzfest who told me he "loves running in the heat and loves the sweat." His trick is to cut up a lemon, and put a wedge in his mouth before he heads out the door for a run. That keeps him feeling refreshed during his sweltering summer runs.

When life gives you lemons... suck on them while you're running!

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Skeptical?

So am I, but I might try it anyway. Who knows? I thought chewing gum while running sounded dumb, too. Until I tried it.

What tricks do you use to beat the summer heat?
What's the weirdest advice you've ever gotten from a stranger?

Dry humor & sweet rewards

Yesterday I went out for a long run, and some funny things happened in that 2.5 hours.

Frozen assets:
Normally I head out the door with a frozen water bottle. In Florida summer heat the bottle melts by mile 3. By mile 4 it's bath-water warm (which is as gross as it sounds).

So I (finally) realized that if I run my first mile or two as a loop from home, I can leave the bottle in the freezer and pick it up mid-run. Brilliant!

"Licking blocks of ice on a hot day." Refreshing but disturbing?
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This is the first time in more than a year that I've had cold water past mile 5.
(Should I be glad I thought of this trick? Or disappointed that it has taken me so long to figure it out?)

Sweet rewards:
90 minutes into the run, my water supply was running low, as expected. I planned to stop at home for a refill, so I decided it was a good time to head back in that direction.

As soon as I turned toward home, I saw a yard sale in full-swing. I scanned the odds and ends, and was about to keep going when, lo and behold - buried among the tchotchkes was... (do my eyes deceive me? is it a mirage?) a lemonade stand!

5-cent lemonade.
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It always makes me smile to see little kids selling lemonade, but under the circumstances, this stand was particularly sweet.

Thankfully I always run with a couple of bucks tucked into a pocket. I handed over a sweaty $1 in exchange for a 50-cent cup of lemonade and told the budding entrepreneur to keep the change. It was a small price to pay for not hearing "eww gross" about my sweatiness a refreshment that made the next couple of miles much, much easier. (Plus, who wants to run with loose change jingling in a pocket?)

Dry humor:
Still, I needed more water.
Eventually I made my way home for a pit stop, where I sweet-talked Hubby into joining me for the last 3 miles.

Hubby runs faster than me.
Hubby runs much faster when I'm into double-digit miles and he's on fresh legs.

I wasn't about to risk injury by trying to keep up with his 5k pace after my half-marathon run. And he wasn't about to shuffle just for the sake of shuffling.

So what did he do?

He ran circles around me.
Literally.

It was hilarious.
(Maybe I was giddy from dehydration? Maybe that little girl spiked the lemonade? Either way - I can't remember the last time I got the giggles during a long run the way I did every time Hubby would lap me.)

Nothing beats a belly laugh.
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Hubby would sprint ahead a block or two, trot back, circle me, and repeat.
And I would chuckle every time.

Under other circumstances, I might have been peeved that Hubby was running laps around me. But yesterday it worked. Hubby got a solid interval workout. I got company for the (always hardest) last few miles of my long run. And we both got a good laugh out of it.

When is the last time you bought lemonade from a child at a roadside stand?
What's your most recent belly-laugh moment?

Vacation brain

The Green Bay marathon issue stirred up a pet peeve of mine (see yesterday's post). This pet peeve is an affliction I refer to as "vacation brain."

Vacation brain is the common ailment that strikes vacationers and recreation-ers alike, causing them to throw caution to the wind due to an overwhelming sense that "nothing bad happens on vacation."

• I've seen tourists walk into oncoming traffic. (What makes you think a Manhattan cab is going to stop just because you want to cross the street?)
• I've watched families in Yellowstone get out of the car and approach a grizzly bear for a photo op. (Really people? Those things bite!)
• I once saw a hiker crouch down with his 3-year-old toddler to point out a mountain lion 20 yards away. (Again with the biting! A toddler looks like lunch to that cat.)
• I passed a lady 2 miles down into the Grand Canyon. She was wearing high heels. (Hello honey, don't you realize you have to walk back UP? And didn't you see the signs at the top about proper gear and precautions?)
• I personally took a water taxi to a remote beach in Cabo to snorkel. Alone. (Yes, folks. That might be the dumbest thing I've ever done.)
• We've all heard the Aron Ralson story...and...
• I've seen otherwise sensible runners push themselves to the point of injury just because an event is called a "race."

In short, "vacation brain" makes us poor judges of risk.

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If a bear sauntered into a family's back yard, they'd lock the doors and call animal control. But on vacation, risk assessment gets all screwed up somehow. Not only does the family not lock the doors, they reach out to pet the grizzly!

Then, if something does go wrong, emergency personnel and good samaritans will drop everything to help out, which might put even more people in danger.

Getting back to the marathon issue, everything I've heard from runners at Green Bay suggests that the course was well supported. Water stations were ample. (The event organizer added extra water stops when they learned of the warm weather forecast.) In addition, there were cooling/spraying stations along the route. This was not a situation in which the event coordinators were unprepared. In fact, by all accounts, volunteers stayed on the course to support runners even after the event was closed down.

Green Bay organizers did the race equivalent of shooing the bears away, and when that didn't work, they shut the race down.

Sometimes race organizers do deserve blame for poor planning, but this doesn't seem to be one of those cases.

So why, then, did dozens of runners seek medical attention?

I suspect it's a combination of factors.

Running in the heat is hard. Duh.
(Those of us who live in the south speak from experience.)
Some people have more trouble in the heat than others. Some people will get injured during a large half marathon no matter how good the planning is - it's a law of large numbers issue.

Running in the heat requires acclimation.
(Wisconsin in May is not Florida in May... That does make a difference, even if I would prefer to think we're just tougher down here.)

But no matter what the location or time of year: running in the heat doesn't need to turn into a total circus. That brings me back to... Vacation Brain.

Some of the responsibility for race safety should be pointed back at us - the participants.

Call it vacation-brain, call it race-day ego, call it poor risk assessment. No matter what the name is, it is our instinct to react differently during a "race" than we would in our own backyard. We're supposed to "tough it out" because it's a race. Or we expect that things will be fine because we're in the "safe" environment of an organized event.

Unfortunately, not stopping when we feel overheated is the running equivalent of that photo op with the grizzly (or my solo snorkeling expedition in Cabo).

Each and every day we need to assess risks as they are before us, not as they wish they would be.

Treating heat illness
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Even thought I know most readers already know the basics, I'm going to repeat something I posted a couple of weeks ago (from Medlineplus.gov):

• Heatstroke - a life-threatening illness in which body temperature may rise above 106° F in minutes; symptoms include dry skin, rapid, strong pulse and dizziness
• Heat exhaustion - an illness that can precede heatstroke; symptoms include heavy sweating, rapid breathing and a fast, weak pulse
• Heat cramps - muscle pains or spasms that happen during heavy exercise
• Heat rash - skin irritation from excessive sweating

So, running friends, as we roll into the summer months, please stay cool out there!
Be safe!
(And avoid the bears.)

What's the silliest thing you've ever done or seen someone do on vacation?

Blame game

You may have heard that the Cellcom Green Bay Marathon closed down their race after only 2:35. The reason? High temperatures sent about 20 people to the emergency room and dozens more were evaluated on-site for heat illness.

People are questioning whether or not the race should have been suspended.
People are questioning whether or not the race should have even started.

I will not knock a race director for making a judgement on the side of safety.

That said - I think there's a larger issue at play here:

Did runners start losing their sense of personal responsibility?

Isn't it every runner's duty to know the signs of heat illness and react accordingly (i.e. before it becomes a medical crisis)?

I know that there are negligent organizers in the world, and I would not want to race with one of them. And cancelling a race for a hurricane, blizzard, tornado, or heat wave is perfectly logical.

But the blame game lately seems to be shifting the balance - especially for warmer than "expected" weather - away from runners and onto the shoulders of race organizers. In reality, a race director will never know if my personal "too hot" is 70 degrees or 85. It should be my responsibility to know my limits and plan/react accordingly. If I feel taxed by the weather, it should be me who is smart enough to slow down, walk, dunk my head in an ice bucket, or DNF.

Yes, even DNF is an option. The shot fired from a starting gun is merely a signal. No one points it at a runner's head and says "You will finish!"

So, in general, my mental math looks something like this:

• A race that runs out of water = organizer's fault
• A runner who pushes too hard and gets hurt = runner's fault

In reality, situations are rarely so clear-cut, but I worry that if this blame-game trend continues, we'll soon be left only with December races in Seattle. (Oh, but then there would be rain...)

What's your take on calling off or cancelling races on account of the weather?

Heat warnings, DNS, and DNF

By now, you've probably heard that the Boston Athletic Association is encouraging runners to take things easy, walk, or sit tomorrow's race out due to predicted record temperatures. (For more info see Miss Zippy and Will Run for Beer.)

I am a strong believer that runners train to race through tough conditions. After all, as one of my favorite race-day posters reads "If it was easy, everyone would do it."

BUT

Each race has its own unique circumstances and conditions. Expecting a PR when running into 20mph headwinds is just silly. Expecting that the heat won't affect your race is borderline dangerous, even if you have been training in the heat.

Treating heat illness
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Our sport glorifies those who push through tough circumstances. After all, if we don't push ourselves beyond our comfort zones, we'll never improve. But there is a fine line between exceptional performance and stupid risk-taking. So...

...in the spirit of full disclosure, I have DNFed, and it's OK.

After training for a year for a triathlon in Encinitas, CA, including many hours of swim workouts, I thought I was ready for anything. Unfortunately on race morning the surf was 8-10 feet with a strong rip current.

I watched the first wave (elites) get dragged 400 yards off course. Still, I got into the water.

I got pummeled and dragged off course by the current. I was not making headway against the surf.

I turned and paddled back in to shore. I had an official cut off my timing chip. I finished the bike and run as a fun run. I won't say I'm proud of my DNF, but I am proud that I was wise enough to know my limits that day.

I also have one race that I DNSed.

Another triathlon was scheduled in the autumn. San Diego had gone more than 180 days without rain. On the day before the race, the heavens opened up, washing 6 months of trash, dog poo, and other unmentionables into the bay.

While the County had officially closed all waters to swimming, the race organizers chose not to turn the race into a duathlon. The swim was on, despite all health regulations to the contrary.

I was not getting in that water.

I slept in.

Reading reports of sinus infections, sore throats, and other post-race ailments, I've never regretted the decision to not start that race.

And heat is my enemy in any race.

Northwest Florida is warm all the time.

When I run, it's hot outside.

My body, theoretically, is used to this.

Still, in this morning's half marathon, I suffered from heat illness. While I have no formal diagnosis, I can say that at about mile 11 I noticed I had stopped sweating (despite consuming two full bottles of water).

I threw in the towel and walked.

This wasn't a wussy move on my part. I knew the symptoms and made a calculated decision. And, it turns out, my on-the-fly diagnosis was pretty accurate. I took my temperature an hour after the race - 100 degrees - and that was after soaking in a cold bath.

So, the moral of this story is: if you are running in the heat, keep these symptoms in mind (from Medlineplus.gov):

• Heatstroke - a life-threatening illness in which body temperature may rise above 106° F in minutes; symptoms include dry skin, rapid, strong pulse and dizziness
• Heat exhaustion - an illness that can precede heatstroke; symptoms include heavy sweating, rapid breathing and a fast, weak pulse
• Heat cramps - muscle pains or spasms that happen during heavy exercise
• Heat rash - skin irritation from excessive sweating

Walking might be an ego-bruiser, but being carted off the course in an ambulance is way worse.

Be safe, friends!

Have you ever DNSed or DNFed a race?

Post run sweatpocalypse

You might call it Sweatmageddon.
Sweatpocalypse.
A Sweat Tsunami.

Summer has arrived on the Gulf Coast and my evening 12-miler was a sweaty affair to say the least. Thankfully Hubby was around to document the damage.

Post run: The cold floor tiles feel sooooo good!
Just ignore the puddle of sweat...

Don't judge.

After 2 slow, slogging hours in the sun, I wanted nothing more than to cool off and put my feet up. The floor tiles just happened to be the coldest thing in the house. If I could have taken a nap in the refrigerator, I probably would have.

What I didn't count on was condensation. 2 minutes after laying down, I realized I was making a sweat puddle.

Sexy, I know.

But I'm proud of it.

Today tried really hard to be a no good, very bad day. (I did my fair share of cussing, whining, and complaining, to be sure.)

This morning's thunder and lightning tried to sideline me. My mid-day was steamrolled by project deadlines at work (yes, working on Saturday. Ugh.) and California non-resident tax forms. (Hello California, could you make the forms any more confusing?)

When I went out the door this evening, I was already in a pissy mood. The temperature could have turned me around for home. The heat was just another straw on the bad-day camel's back.

But, knowing I needed a little extra motivation, I packed my mp3 player (rare event unless I'm on a treadmill). I played some of my favorite running songs and just kept putting one foot in front of the other for 120 minutes.

I admit that I wussed out a little and turned down streets for their shadiness or lack-of-hills, rather than tackling a tougher route. I won't claim this was my "best run ever." In fact, there were times when it was downright ugly. (Photo above is an excellent case-in-point...)

I did, truth be told, stop back at home at the 100-minute mark, grab a glass of ice water (my water bottle was bone dry) and ask/beg Hubby to come trot with me for the last 20 minutes.

He obliged.

And then took the photo.

..but it will be harder for him to use it as blackmail now that I've posted it on the interwebs. Heh.

What's your strategy for coping with a bad day?

Cold front!

Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!
Last night the weatherman said the magic words: Cold front!

Break out the Gortex and ice skates! A cold front is coming!

But let's be serious.

This is August. In Florida.

By "cold front" the delusional weatherman meant "still bathwater warm, but not scalding tomorrow."

Whatever! I'll take what I can get. Temperatures are in the low 70s. I was, frighteningly, ecstatic when the temperature was only 81 on a recent run. (Yes. I realize that this is a symptom of the Gulf Coast version of Stockholm Syndrome.)

Temperatures in the 70s are like a gift from the heavens (literally).

After weeks of 100+ Heat Index temperatures it felt positively brisk outside today. The morning weather lady said it was 70 degrees at 7am. My run felt fantastic, and I kept up a pace almost 90 seconds/mile faster than what I've been running in the warmer weather. (Hooray! My legs still work!)

In fact, it was so nice to be outside, if I hadn't had to go to work, I would have kept right on going...

Do you change your workouts to take advantage of great weather? Or do you always stick to the schedule?

Photo (of ice-skater) courtesy of Nationaal Archief and photo (of bayou skater) courtesy of your truly.

Slacker? Or smart?

So today, I am not going for a run. I walked 3 miles. I will stationary bike another dozen "miles." But I will not run.

Quote: Dangerous heat index. Outdoor exposure should be limited.

Tonight is the weekly pub run. On any other Tuesday, I'd put in my 3-5 miles. But a few weeks ago the pub run organizer mentioned that we should "take it easy out there." And he cautioned, especially, that people running with dogs should be very careful. To quote the organizer "Unfortunately a dog died on the run in this heat last summer. We don't want that to happen again." Yikes!

So, who am I to ignore such clear warnings?
(I don't know how those Badwater Ultra Marathon runners do it. 135 miles with temperatures of 110 and up? Really?)

Quote: You can have brain damage. You can have internal organ damage.

Right. I'll be staying indoors today.

Maybe that makes me a slacker. Maybe it makes me smart.

Frankly, it's too hot to care.

What's your strategy when the temperature soars?

Sweltering but successful fourth of July 5k

94 degrees.
3.1 miles.

A course described as both "flat and fast" and "shady." The flat part is 100 percent accurate. Fast is relative when it's 90+ degrees. Shady required a total stretch of the imagination. (Note to race organizers: Your use of the term "shady" because of a few trees along the route is only relative to Fort Worth's complete lack of shade in general. You might want to reconsider the "shade" terminology for next year's run.)

This was the Independence 5000, hosted by Cox Racing Services.

I won my age group. So, heat or no heat, it was a good morning, especially considering that I was nursing a calf injury all week.

Hubby placed second in his age group (a category more competitive than mine... but let's not dwell on those details) and 11th overall. My favorite part of the race was counting the winners passing me after their turn-around, and being able to yell to hubby "there are only 10 people ahead of you, go get 'em Speedy!"

The Fort Worth Independence 5000 had a few key features that I look for in a good race. The start/finish area was well organized and uncrowded. There were plenty of port-a-pottys (key feature in any race!). There was plenty of pre- and during-race water, and decent food and beverage after the run. And for short-course races, I really do love an out-and-back course. I get a thrill from watching the fastest runners speeding by toward their win.

On the negative side, the race was gun time, not chip time. Age group winner or not, my recorded "gun time" finish was a full 20 seconds slower than my watch time. It was a slow day for me anyway, so I'm not sure why this bothers me, but it does.

But overall, I'd run this race again. In true Texas style, the runners were friendly, exchanging "good mornings," commiserating that "my god it's hot" on the course, and encouraging each other to push through the final few hundred yards to "finish strong."

Running with my husband - good for my pace, bad for my ego

This morning I went out for a 4 mile run with my husband. Just before the 2-mile mark, I commented "wow, we've got some speed this morning" as it was the fastest not-on-a-treadmill run I've done in weeks. As I've mentioned before, the heat and humidity are killing my outdoor run pace (and my hair...) but I am keeping up with speedwork at the gym.

I felt like I was pushing myself, and was enjoying my 8:45ish pace.

My husband's response was "I'm just warming up." About 200 yards later he sped off.

So much for feeling speedy.

I used to get frustrated by my hubby's tendency to leave me in the dust. A couple of years ago, in our early dating days, there was one run which we agreed to "run together." A mile into the run, he took off. 30 minutes later I tripped on a tree root sticking out of the trail and tumbled ass over teakettle. When I finally caught up with him at our breakfast place, I was covered in gravel and had a twig stuck in my hair. Furious doesn't begin to describe my state of mind that day... mad because he took off, mad because I couldn't keep up, mad because I was scraped and filthy, and my pride was bruised to boot.

But when I did finally catch up with him, he was waiting patiently for me and was holding a cold glass of water because he knew I'd need one. He took me home and cooked me breakfast while I showered, because I couldn't sit in the restaurant covered in dirt.

Over the years I've learned to accept that he's way faster than me, and probably way faster than I'll ever be. But trying to keep up has made me a better runner. Knowing that he's watching the clock between when he wraps up a run and I when I do means that my ego won't let me take walk breaks. My race times improved, literally, by 2 minutes per mile (even more for the half-marathon) since we started running together.

And he's always waiting for me at the finish line with a cold glass of water...

Just a little trick

This morning, on a particularly hot and sticky run, I reverted to an old psychological trick that I haven't had to play on myself in years. It's the "just keep running until you get to ________, and then you can rest" trick.
(Insert "that tree" "the white mailbox" "the next street light" and you get the idea.)

You pick some inanimate object, say 50 yards away, and promise yourself that you just need to run to that object, and then you can take a rest. When you're, say, 20 feet away from the target, you convince yourself that you can run "just a little farther" to the next target - another 50 yards away. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.

When I first started huffing and puffing my way to being a runner (we won't talk about how many years ago that was) I used this little trick regularly to stretch my runs from 1/4 mile to 1/2 mile... then to 2 miles... and eventually to my first 5k. By that point, I was hooked and no longer needed tricks to keep myself motivated. (Well, that is, until I met the sauna that is northwest Florida. Hello humidity!)

How my legs haven't caught on to what my brain is doing, I'll never know, but it does work. I "tricked" my feet into carrying me through the second half of a 90+ degree run this morning. By the end I was so drenched in sweat that I looked like I had gotten caught in a rain storm, but I finished.

And man did that cold shower afterward feel good!

I can run and chew gum at the same time

You've heard that old expression...

__insert name here__ is so stupid he can't walk and chew gum at the same time.

Well thankfully most of us are perfectly capable of doing both, seamlessly, unless we suffer from some sort of cognitive impairment like Alzheimer's or dementia.

But running and chewing gum? That's just pure madness.

Right?

I had never even considered the possibility until recently. If I had thought about it, I probably would have dismissed it under the assumption that running while chewing gum posed a high choking hazard. You know, with all that huffing-and-puffing, you'd probably inhale the gum, right?

Maybe not...

On a rather hot and dry run last summer, a friend handed me a stick of chewing gum before we started. I was skeptical, but she's an accomplished runner. And on closer consideration I realized baseball players chew gum while they're playing and to the best of my knowledge, no game has ever been stopped because of a gum-asphyxiation incident.

So I took a stick, and was off on my way.

Maybe it was the placebo effect, but I felt more pep on that run than I had in weeks. As we have discussed before, I tend to wither in the heat like a snail on hot pavement. The minty gum prevented my mouth from getting that gritty dry feeling that is inevitable on long hot runs. I think it tricked my brain into thinking "it's not so hot out" the way running with music tricks my brain into thinking "I'm not breathing so hard; I can go faster!"

So much of running is about training our brains, because our brains are wired to tell us to slow down, ease off, and take it easy long before our bodies really have to give in. One of my favorite running quotes of all time is: "In the beginning it's hard to understand that the race is not against others but against that little voice in your head that tells you when to quit."
(I have yet to find a credible "first" source for that quote, but do believe that the speaker knows what it means to be a runner.)

My verdict on the gum: it keeps that little voice quiet for a little longer. Maybe it works because it keeps my jaws working on something else, so my inner voice can't say "it's too hot!" Maybe it works because it keeps my mouth from getting dry. Maybe it works because it's 100% placebo effect. But no matter what the reason, it does work.

I just have to remember now to look for a waste bin at the 3-mile point... because the gum only lasts so long, and I don't need to leave my flavorless gum on the street waiting to ambush the next runner's shoes.

Photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/momboleum/
Photo link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/momboleum/2795630136/