My alarm went off at 5:15 a.m. and I noticed it was pretty dark out. Hooray, the clouds from last night's lightning-fest (but no rain, UGH) were making way for a cloudy and cool run!
Went outside. Noted the heat. Started to sweat. Weather app said 90°. Woof.
I sucked it up and hopped off to my scheduled 4-miler. The first mile was terribad and ended up coming in at 11:11, even with me doing a few "sprints" to try to salvage what I knew was a sluggish start. Although I've started this training in summer in Arizona, the mornings have generally been fine. They're not cool in any sense of the word, but I guess I never realized the difference between 84° and 90°. You know, until today.
I finally found my legs and ticked off the remaining miles at 10:30, 10:37 and 10:11, for a 10:37/mi pace. Rather than positive mantras and envisioning success and greatness, I basically mentally berated myself for being such a baby! There are worse things in life than running in hot weather. The pace was quicker than what I'll need to do for a 2:20 (barely), so it was a win! Lay off.
(Can't say the phrase "lay off" without picturing this. These fries are good!!!!)