I went for a run today outside. It was 108 degrees. I've been waiting for the weather to break, and anything under 110 felt broken at first. I was trying for 30 minutes. I was good through about 25. A little dry in the mouth, but maintaining a good pace. By 26, I was hurting for the end. By 27, I'd slowed down to an easy jog. For minutes 28-30, imagine Chevy Chase in National Lampoon's Vacation singing 99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall as he's wandering through the desert after crashing the car. I sort of felt like I was boiling from the inside out.
This follows in a series of scientific experiments I've conducted to test the limits human temperature toleration. It's done less out of desire for aerobic fitness, and more out of simple curiosity. Back in Alaska's Arctic Interior, I bottomed the thermometer out during a 45 minute jog at 42 below zero. The idea started during November, after a run around 0 F, I figured if I added a few layers to a few key areas, I could probably go another 10 degrees cooler. I just kept adding layers as the temperature kept dropping, eventually finding the right clothes for the job. Quite literally, at those temperatures, I was running for my life. If I stopped, I was done.
I know. I'm an idiot.
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When our leader spends time at the ranch in Texas he has a challenge that you are more than up for, he calls for a run when it gets to be 100 degrees and gives out a t-shirt to those that complete it. You should get the t-shirt without even going there to do the run. Thank heavens you lived thru it but it doesn't surprise me, the urge to run is primal no matter what the weather.
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