All my good intentions died hard this week. I meant to do 6:1 Monday night, but other things came up; then rescheduled it for Tuesday morning but was VERY tired; rescheduled again for Tuesday night but was still in the grocery store at 9:00 (my normal evening running time); rescheduled for Wednesday morning but had a headache and was not "going there" with a run; rescheduled for Wednesday night but didn't start a project that needed work until 8:30. . .
So. Even on only 4 hours of sleep, I got up (mostly because I couldn't sleep any longer) and went this morning.
It was 87 when I left, 88.7 when I returned. I am one sticky chicky. Even after laying on my living room floor, spread out like a starfish under the breeze of the fan. I'm worried I may have overheated.
I didn't even stretch down yet.
I was dog tired on the last 5 minutes, AND my iPod quit on me. Ever wonder why I'm so codependent on my iPod? It's because when it's just me, I talk to myself out loud. And answer myself OUT LOUD:
"My land, it's HOT!"
"I hate that!"
"I know. I wanna puke."
"No. really. I feel sick"
Whatever. Mischief managed. And I can still fit in a run on Saturday.
I'm off to shower. Especially since my arms are sweating all over the desk as I type this.