I'm exaggerating, of course. Like any normal English person, I crave the sunshine – partly because we seem to get so little of it.
But I hate the sunshine when I'm exercising. When I'm exercising alone, I try and make sure I get my run in the early morning, before the heat really kicks in. Before 9 is my ideal, but life seldom works like that. To begin with, I find it hard to resist dealing with emails while I'm having my morning cuppa, and things tend to spiral from there... Before we got Laszlo, it wasn't unknown for me to be sitting at my desk at three in the afternoon, still wearing my dressing gown, with a stone-cold mug of half-drunk tea at my elbow. These days, I'm compelled to give Lasz a walk, preferable by lunch-time, so I'm no longer the dressing gown devotee I once was, but I still manage to find plenty to do before I get myself out the door in my running shoes.
This morning, for instance, I didn't get out until nearly 10, by which time the sun had cranked up a considerable amount of heat. It didn't stop me from getting round the park's perimeter twice (a distance of just over a mile and a quarter, as measured by my car's odometer on Saturday - big yay!), but it would have been easier to do had the temperature been somewhat cooler. Bring on the drizzle, that's what I say.
1 comment:
Couldn't agree more, heresy though it may be. Have just come back from spending a week in Arles where it was in the early 30s every day and I couldn't be more pleased to get back to cool, grey, damp Britain. One's brain turns to jelly in the heat, or at least mine does.
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