I’m in Florida for Thanksgiving and, dang, it’s hot down here. Ok, I admit, it’s really a totally normal temperature for Florida in November, but it feels hot.
Mae, my non-running chihuahua and I arrived in Orlando late Sunday night, drove to my parents’ house, and went straight to bed. We are in town to take care of my mom’s pets and house while she and dad are away. Monday was a grey day, dreary and cool. I did a few things around the house, walked the dog, and took a rest day.
This morning, I woke up ready to run. By the time I fed all the pets, walked the dog, and got myself ready, the sun was above the trees and shining down. What great weather!, I thought, I can’t wait to run. About a half mile into the run, I started sweating. A lot. It was hot! Hot hot. Like center of the sun, middle of summer hot. I trudged along, feeling hotter and hotter. I began cursing my short sleeve shirt. Why didn’t I wear a tank? When it’s this hot, shorts and a tank is the only way to go. Silly me. For a while I considered taking my shirt off, but it’s a nice community with lots of elderly folks and I’ve never seen anyone running in just a sport bra here, even in the middle of summer. So, I soldiered on. I couldn’t get over how fast the day was heating up. That’s when I started passing people. Nice, happy Floridians. Every single one was wearing long pants and long sleeves. One lady I passed had on a light jacket. An older man on a cruiser bike had on a sweater (Thanksgiving-themed). A young man walking a bulldog had on a knit cap. They all looked at me in bewilderment. What’s wrong with that poor, scantily clad girl, they must have been thinking. I trotted around for about 5 miles, cooking the whole time. It was hot!
At the end of my run I looked at my mom’s thermometer. I wanted to be sure that I knew the exact temperature so that I could report to my husband at home how super hot it was in Florida. It was 63 degrees. And that’s when I realized – I’m a Northerner – and all these Real Floridians must think I’m a crazy person. Wait until they see me on tomorrow’s run…in my pale green tank top and shorts. It’s supposed to be 55.