Tag Archives: heat wave

me vs. me

Some days my brain conspires against me in ways I don’t quite understand. Yesterday, the massive heat wave that has been hovering over the midwest offered a slight reprieve. It was 80 glorious degrees and I never thought I’d say it, but 80 degrees is downright pleasant when your body is fighting to acclimate to 100+.

I decided to celebrate by going for a run outside on a trail near my parents’ house. I haven’t been on this trail in a few years because, well, I’ve never been much of a runner in the first place. Also, they found a body not far from the trail a couple of years back and my mother tried to convince me to never run on a trail (or visit a forest preserve) ever again (always the fear monger, that one is). Judging by how busy the trail was yesterday with bikers, walkers, and joggers, I’m going to venture to say the trail itself isn’t that unsafe.

I digress. My body has really accustomed itself to the treadmill and now I’m fighting to break the habit by introducing more challenging landscapes. To my delight, I handled it with the gracefulness of a gazelle (not really, but bear with me). I was able to crank out over 3 miles and it felt great. I felt like I was running on a cloud. This was my first time running outside that I didn’t feel like a giant failure. I vowed to repeat this today. That didn’t happen for two reasons (or three, depending on how you look at it):

1: I went for a walk during my lunch break and the flats I was wearing totally deceived me and cut up my heels very painfully, making it difficult to walk in shoes

2: it started to rain during my commute home, even though weather.com CLEARLY stated that there was only a 10% chance of showers, and…

3(ish): after the first drop of rain, I gave myself the permission to skip my run even though I knew the rain would pass.I do this a lot…grant myself permission I don’t deserve. And then that is usually followed by eating more than I know I should because I get into this mindset that it doesn’t matter anyway (which is a bad mindset to have).

I guess the only point I have to convey today is that I’m still here and I’m still struggling, but I’m owning up to my failures and keeping on track the best I can. I’ve been so sleepy and lethargic lately–moreso than usual–so it’s been incredibly easy to cut myself slack even when I know I don’t deserve it. I’m trying to find a motivating factor that I can use as a weapon against myself when sitting on the couch and eating cookies sounds better than putting forth effort to be a better and brighter me. I haven’t really found it yet, but I’m searching.

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run, sweat, drink beer

I’m down 17 pounds. I’ve finally (FINALLY!) run 3.1 miles straight through without a walking break in sight. I’ve been sweating my ass off both in the gym and in my car, whose lousy A/C decided to crap out during the biggest heat wave of…ever, as far as I’m concerned. And now I have two glorious days off (the weekend before the weekend!) and I’m going to drink some beer and get all self-congratulatory about meeting my short-term goals while still trying to keep myself in check so as not to deter myself from continuing on to the next leg of this journey: the long-term goals.

Happy Fourth!

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the unenjoyment of record highs in March

I know I try to make this a vegan/food/fitness blog most days, but as I have little to report on that front, bear with me.

As the Chicagoland area has been losing its shit over the unbelievably, unseasonably sunny warmth for the past week, it’s starting to lose its luster for me. I’m sort of a Debbie Downer, I guess. Was 75 degrees in March nice? Yes. For a time. Now it’s an 80 muggy degrees in my apartment, and why the hell would I turn on the A/C? It’s March, for crying out loud! This means I have to suck it up. My hair hates humidity. I hate the sticky, loathsome feeling of sweat (especially in dress pants and nice blouses…ugh). There are already mosquitoes, for christ’s sake. One of the only tolerable parts of summer, to me, is those first nice, crisp, clean 50 degree days that feel so hot after a rigid Chicago winter. Wait, what’s that? Oh yes, that’s right: the Chicago winter we all know and love failed to grace us with its presence this year. “Winter” was about one and a half snowstorms and a lot of 35 degree days. And “spring” skipped the 40s-60s entirely and jumped right into a full-fledged summer.

I should love summer. Everybody loves summer. Everyone loves driving with the windows down, backyard BBQs, getting to bring your winter workouts out into the actual sunny world for a few months. What’s not to like about outdoor concerts? Beer tastings? Baseball games? The sound of bullfrogs at night or the rumbling of a freight train when your windows are open and you’re curled up in bed pondering life’s biggest, deepest questions? And I especially should love summer because my birthday is in July. I was a summer baby. And I was born on one of (if not THE) hottest day of the year. You’d think I’d have a proclivity for things that are toasty warm. But I don’t. My disdain for summer, I think, can be mostly attributed to the self-consciousness it brought in my youth. I sweat more than the average woman (is this a fact? I have no concrete evidence except for the fact that I sweat. a lot.) and my hair turns into a big giant frizzball and who needs moisturizer when you have a constant glisten of wet sweat donning your face? Ah, summer.

I know I shouldn’t complain about the wonderful weather because it comes few and far between but I am frankly tired of it. It was a nice honeymoon but now I’m ready for two months of spring that I feel I was robbed of. And all I keep reading about is how the bugs are going to be extra buggy this year because they’re all hatching or coming out of hibernation or whatever the hell it is they do way too early. And is anybody else just a wee bit concerned about global warming? Oh, no? Just me? Well okay then. This can’t be good for the polar ice caps…just sayin’.

And this concludes this episode of Why I Should Have Been Born a Canadian.

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