Monday I biked to work. In the evening, the heat index was over 100, and the wind was coming strong out of the south. I went back and forth about biking home, into 20mph winds, in the heat, and for some reason I decided to go for it. It was such a MISTAKE. I took it as slow as I possibly could, I stopped often to drink water, and I still nearly threw up when I got home. I was dizzy and disoriented for the rest of the evening.

I am just not built for the heat. I get heat stroke pretty easily, and I burn in the shade; these are things I have known for a while, I’m used to it. I have 50spf sunscreen in my bag all summer long. I wear hats, I wear things with sleeves, I choose the seat in the shade. I’m just more comfortable in cooler weather. For the longest time, I even saw this as kind of a personal failing. Fat is insulating, right? The fact that I like colder weather and hate hot weather was just one more piece of evidence that I was FAT. Skinny people like hot weather. Fat people just turn into sweatballs.

Only, then I started dating Niles, who is tall and naturally pretty skinny, and he hates hot weather so much more than I do. I had to confront the idea that maybe not liking hot weather was JUST A THING, and there was no judgment attached to it. I prefer cooler weather, that is just a thing about me. It doesn’t make me better or worse than anyone else. I mean, I feel ridiculous even typing that. How could I have ever thought that this personal preference was anything more than just a personal preference?

ANYWAY. Moving on. We had just about made it to 28 minute runs in C25K when the weather here started turning really warm. It set us back a bit – we had to cut back to 15 minutes and start building back up again. Running in 40 degrees didn’t even phase me, but running in 80 degrees is a different animal. After Monday, I didn’t even bother trying to bike or run during the 95 degree days this week. I know myself, I know my body, and I know that even walking in 95 degree weather can leave me feeling ill. Now that the heat wave has broken I can try running again. Once again, my instinct is to apply some sort of judgment to this – I should have been running, I shouldn’t have cut back to 15 minutes, I should have pushed myself. I think I’m finally getting over this, though. There’s no point in pushing myself if it just means I’m going to pass out from heat stroke and dehydration. And there’s no point in beating myself up about it either. It’s harder for me to run in the heat, but I get better at it every time. It’s just a thing. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Periodic reminder: there is a facebook page, and it is capable of being “liked” by people.