May 11-17 Training

I intended to run closer to 40 miles this week … but a mountain got in my way.  Trip preparations, travel time, and crewing for my boyfriend Lloyd during his smart, successful, and inspiring Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Mile Run put my own plans on the back burner this week.  Usually I will do everything short of move mountains to get all my scheduled miles in to the nearest tenth, with a couple extra if I’m feeling good.  The only way to do that this week would be to sacrifice sleep time, which was already too low a priority. The 24 hours and 175 miles spent following Lloyd during his Massanutten journey included sleep deprivation, navigation, and trekking – that has got to count for some type of training benefit, right?

The rest of this week we’re on vacation, most around the Outer Banks. After a demanding academic year and very busy past two months of races, I’m looking forward to some much-needed days with minimalistic agendas and new running routes to explore.

May 11 – May 17

Monday – Rest day

Tuesday – 7 easy (roads)

Wednesday – 8 easy with 8 X 30 second strides in last mile (towpath); core exercises

Thursday – 5 easy (towpath); core exercises

Friday – rest day

Saturday/Sunday - 4.5 miles (roads in Strasburg, Va.); 27 hours of crewing for Lloyd in 100 mile run

Totals: 24.5 miles running; can I count 27 hours of crewing?

Good stuff: Wednesday’s towpath run was one of the best “birding runs” I’ve had yet. I was rewarded with sightings of an Indigo Bunting and mated pair of Baltimore Orioles, as well as the usual feathered cast of cardinals, goldfinches, and bluebirds. 

Stuff to keep an eye on: My left Achilles area is still tight and right groin is still achy. These ongoing pains are more annoying than limiting so far (which is lucky), and do not get worse during runs, but are lingering so long I am starting to wonder if they are permanent “trophies” of my running career.

Goals for the week: Log highest mileage week since Boston.  Log food intake each day of vacation, rather than my historic M.O. of letting vacation = vacation from mindful nutrition.

Motley Mountain Crew

It’s not every day that you know with 100% certainly that you’re on the brink of a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.  Thanks to my wonderful partner Lloyd, I have such an infrequent opportunity.

Poster of Massanutten Mountain

We’re in final preparations to travel to Virginia’s gorgeous Shenandoah Valley, where this weekend Lloyd will be one of 180 runners participating in the Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Mile Run.

Lloyd is a smart, tough, talented, and fairly experienced distance runner who has successfully completed one previous 100 mile event. Still, he has the challenge of his running career looming before him like, well, a mountain. He knows it, too. A normally sound sleeper, he has been thrashing and restless most of the week despite being as meticulously prepared as if he is poised to deploy on a solo, unsupported operation.

He isn’t. Not by a long shot.

With barely two years of my own occasional, solely amateur participation on courses and sidelines of a handful of ultramarathons, I don’t pretend to be an expert on this inspiring sport. But I  have observed that many ultrarunners really do, as The Beatles harmonized, get by with a little help from their friends. The people around the runners, from race volunteers to loved ones to the random stranger who helps a disoriented and exhausted runner change her socks at mile 87, often keep participants upright and moving forward — and thereby have the honor of sharing a small part of their achievements.

So Lloyd has two great pacers, friends Courtney and Brandon, who will drive from Ohio to join him on the trail after 6 p.m.  He hopes to be about 60 miles along the course by then.

My job is crew chief. As Lloyd travels from aid station to aid station on the course, I will navigate to his next check-point and nap (I mean, wait earnestly!) until he comes through. When he does I will trade empty for full bottles of liquid fuel, provide food or clothing in exchange for discarded items, and administer limitless encouragement. I will watch out that he doesn’t dawdle and lose time in the aid stations. It’s sort of  like a smaller-scale, more eco-friendly version of a NASCAR pit worker.

The joke in the ultrarunning community is that “CREW” abbreviates “cranky runner, endless waiting.”  In my fledgling crew career I’ve had the pleasure of assisting cheerful and gracious, although sometimes groggy and pained, runners. While waiting, there’s nothing like a short hike or making a new friend as you trade stories with a fellow crew person. Ultras have small fields of diverse participants, and it is easy to quickly become emotionally attached to the athletes and their quests after seeing them pass just a few check-points. This makes the long hours exciting enough and, when each runner finishes, thrilling.

We’ll be traveling 100 miles around the mountain for the better part of 30 hours beginning at 5 a.m. Saturday. Follow the journey online for live reports, or if I’m among your Facebook friends check my status for as many updates as I’m able to post.

Get In on the Action in Boston

The 2009 Boston Marathon is shaping up to be a very exciting race. I’m overjoyed to be entered in my second Boston, but a tiny bit of me wishes I could be two places at once – both running hard out on the course and cheering hard from the sidelines.

One of the most thrilling things about running Boston is the chance to participate in the same event as some of the greatest endurance athletes in the world. (We “mortals” can simply think of ourselves as in a different heat!) As a fellow Minnesota girl, I’m pulling for 2008 Olympic competitor Kara Goucher to have a great day in the women’s race.  In her second marathon, the 2008 NYC Marathon third-place finisher will run against a more experienced field including last year’s Boston women’s winner, Ethiopia’s Dire Tune. Kara’s Olympic teammates Ryan Hall and Brian Sell will run in the men’s elite event, along with multiple-time champ and current course record holder Robert K. Cheruiyot of Kenya.

The hugely inspiring father-son team Dick and Rick Hoyt will attempt their 1000th race as partners on Monday, along with more than 22,000 entrants from all over the globe. Bill Rodgers, a Boston Marathon legend, has also said he will run. A four-time Boston Marathon champion during the late 1970s, Rodgers will have the unique privilege of competing  with the fastest men on the planet and, equally if not more difficult at times, competing against himself.

If you’re anywhere near Bean Town Monday, there’s no more thrilling place to be.

Not in New England? You can still virtually cheer on the field.

Universal Sports web broadcasting will air the race live, beginning at 9:30 EST. To catch the race here, double-check your computer has all needed plug-ins. The Boston Marathon website will make live online tracking available during the race, or fans can set up text/email athlete alerts to follow the runner of their choice.

Good luck to all Boston runners!

Running’s for the Bird-Brained

Belted Kingfisher

Lately I’ve been including unplanned, brief stops into quite a few of my easy-pace runs. An observer might think Iam tired, struggling, erratic, or out of shape.

Eastern Bluebird

I’m not. I’m looking at birds.

Confession: I’ve become a bit of a running bird-watcher. I wonder if I’m the only multi-tasker out on the path? Soon after settling in near the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, where I am fortunate enough to do much of my training, I started spotting more than two birds in a bush’s worth of species on every run. The photos accompanying this post represent just some of the birds I spotted on today’s 6 mile trip along the Ohio and Erie Towpath trail.

When I could no longer identify many of the winged creatures I kept seeing, I bought the field guide Birds of Ohio by Stan Tekiela. It’s a well-illustrated, basic guide perfect for this birding novice, with a sport-specific surprise. A few pages in, I learned that our feathered friends are far finer endurance athletes than we people could ever hope to be.

Next time you’re ambling along a path and you spot a colorful warbler or hear the enticing song of a swooping flight of fancy, remember: Birds may be beautiful and inspiring, but make no mistake, those feathered rascals can beat a sorry, grounded runner’s butt at any distance.

Red-Winged Blackbird

Only the most skillful, talented, strong-minded, or, *cough* crazy *cough* ultramarathoners travel more than 100 miles during an event, fueling as best they can as they go and looking forward to the obligatory post-run feast.  Depending on their instinctive pattern, migrating bird species travel anywhere from a several hundred to 15,000 miles for the reward of a comfortable, season-long buffet.

Well, they do have wings. And helpful air currents. Without getting all Wright Brothers, whose own climate-friendly Ohio to North Carolina migration pattern I reversed late last year, we can’t do much about our non-aerodynamic upper limbs. OK, what else gets a bird to to its Finish line?

Birds of Ohio shares a few key training tips. “One of the many secrets of migration is fat. While we humans are fighting the battle of the bulge, birds intentionally gorge themselves to put on as much fat as possible while still being able to fly. Fat provides the greatest amount of energy per unit of weight.

“During long migratory flights, fat deposits are used up quickly, and birds need to stop to ‘refuel.’ … some birds require up to 2-3 days of constant feeding to build their fat reserves before continuing their seasonal trip.

Wood Ducks

“Birds migrating during the day use a combination of landforms, rivers, and the rising and setting sun to guide them in the right direction. … Studies show that some birds which migrate at night use the stars to navigate. Others use the setting sun, while still others such as doves use the earth’s magnetic fields to guide them north or south.”

All right, now we have a few clues. Many humans, including myself, could improve the practice of consuming fuel for a task’s energy requirements, rather than for a prescribed, time-dictated mealtime tradition or other psychosocial purpose. We could strengthen the connection to surroundings so navigation skills improve beyond the level of say, relying on a GPS device to drive to the next suburb. The Bird-Brained Training Method seems to recommend using instincts, which for many of us featherless sorts would require locating and accessing a deeply buried indigenous nature.

House Finch

Great Blue Heron

How about also adopting the birds’ notion that endurance over distance is a way of migration, something natural to our livelihood and important for our species’ survival?

I wouldn’t argue with a separate theory currently gaining credibility, that humans have evolved for distance running, but how much farther could it get us if we took some of these “bird-brained” practices under our wings?

March 30 – April 5 Training

This week ushered in the tapering phase of Boston training, but after a peak mileage week it didn’t yet feel like I was easing up.  My legs were stiff, heavy, and slow as I plodded through my weekday training runs.

Cleveland skyline from Lakewood Park

On Thursday I was over on the west side of Cleveland for an errand, so I took advantage of proximity to Lake Erie and planned a lakeside out and back run between Lakewood Park and Edgewater Park. Here’s a view from one of my favorite  routes so far in Northeast Ohio. It begins with a sidewalk tour of some older custom homes and lakefront high-rise buildings, skirts the shore while allowing views of the downtown skyline, then winds through a city park busy with people of all ages and backgrounds cycling, walking dogs, playing on the beach, grilling, and hanging out. There’s always so much activity going on, and after living in a smaller community I especially love the feeling of being one little part of a city’s life.

Saturday morning brought me into the same city’s great Metroparks system for the Cleveland Spring Classic half marathon race, planned as a race pace practice run. With almost no marathon pace running during this training cycle, I was a little nervous to see if I could find and maintain the correct pace for half the distance. Other than a fast first mile and long third mile that fooled me into thinking I’d slowed, I was pleased with how the pace felt and with my overall finish time.

March 30-April 5

Monday – 9 easy (roads/towpath)

Tuesday – off from running; taught 90 min. pilates/yoga class and did 15-station weight circuit twice in work fitness center

Wednesday – 8 with 8 x 2:00 5K effort pickups (roads)

Thursday – 6.3 (roads)

Friday – off from running; taught 90 min. pilates/yoga class

Saturday – 17 (2 warm-up easy, Half Marathon in 1:50:14, and 2 cool-down easy on roads)

Sunday – off from running, stayed “active” during day-long volunteering at Fools 50K/25K trail runs

Totals: 40.5 miles running; 2 pilates/yoga classes; 1 circuit workout; additional core/functional strength exercises most days

Good stuff: The weather! The sun was shining and temperatures were comfortable for running all week. Twice I got to wear shorts and short-sleeves, and Sunday’s bright, mild conditions made the trails even more scenic for runners who participated in the event Lloyd organized. Thinking about friends fighting record flooding back home in Fargo right now, being able to be outside having fun isn’t something I take for granted.

Stuff to keep an eye on: My left lower leg has been having some tightness and achy-ness during runs this week.  I chronically have more of this on the left, and actually had an overuse sprain to this foot two years earlier in the beginning hour of a marathon. It might be related to running mechanics or driving a manual transmission; it has definitely been tighter since I got a car with a stick shift last summer. Whatever the reason, it needs attention.

Goals for the week: Calming down my left Achilles/lower calf area. It seems to respond well to daily stretching, self-massage, and ice, so I’ll keep that up. Continuing to eat mindfully, adjust calories for reduced running, and log my food intake.

2009 … so far

Cough! Sniffle! Hack! Look at that cloud of dust! Is that a cobweb?  ‘Scuse me a moment while I grab a broom, open the windows, and air this place out.

Please forgive the disarray of In The Distance. Quarterly new posts fall far short of my best intentions.  The Blogkeeper’s been working hard to get herself and her students in better shape, but in the process let the place atrophy a bit.

While I spiff things up, I’ll re-cap the first season of 2009.

January

Sunset Dec. 31 2008, San Diego

Lloyd and I watched the sun set on a remarkable year in a beautiful place: an oceanfront condo in San Diego, where we spent part of our holiday vacation.  We started 2009 with an impromptu Polar Plunge in the Pacific. On Jan. 3 I entered a local 5K and surprised myself by coming within 7 seconds of my PR. “I am going to do my best to smash that this year!” I vowed.  A red-eye flight delivered us back to Ohio, and before I could adjust to the time zone change I was back at work.

Somewhere around last Thanksgiving, I realized the same fear of falling that holds me back when trail-running is exponentially worse if there is even a rumor of ice on the ground. Hesitantly I baby-stepped across frozen sidewalks and parking lots, certain the slippery stuff was waiting to kiss my agility-challenged, non-acclimated butt.  Walking was precarious enough; I wasn’t going to consider running on slick surfaces. In the middle of one of Cleveland’s snowiest, coldest winters, I retreated to the safety zone. Out of 20 runs completed in Ohio, 14 featured this view:

I logged 181.5 miles for January; 130 were treadmiles and I raced one 5K (23:07).

February

The snow and ice kept on coming. I remained in my winter quarters:

I learned the Brecksville Rec Center treadmills’ every nuance and quirk. ” This one shocks you when you touch it. This one has a weird belt. This one feels wobbly and lacks cushion.” And there was plenty of time to bond: With long runs approaching 20 miles, it became more apparent that I was marathon training again.

February’s running log lists 167.3 miles, 105 of which were on a moving belt. Clearly I have a high tolerance for boredom, and paired it with considerable gratitude for a comfortable mid-winter running environment.

On rare ventures outside, I was able to get in touch with my inner trail animal. I discovered that I love to plow, leap, and slide over a powder-covered trail. Something about the pillowy white stuff turns off my tentative trail gene. Who cares if I fall when I’ll land in softness and deja vu of playing in the snow as a kid?

Deer Lick trail in the snow, Brecksville Reservation

Valentine’s Day weekend marked one year since my first trip to Cleveland, and it was also the occasion of my friend Mert’s first visit. We had a great time catching up, exploring, shopping, watching girlie movies, and especially seeing Michael Franti and Spearhead’s warm and sunny blend of reggae, rock, soul, folk, rap, pop, and peace activism turn up the heat at the House of Blues.

Feb. 14 was also supposed to be my second Chili Bowl Classic 5K race and I eagerly looked forward to trying to better last year’s time. Instead, my warm up nearly stopped me in snow tracks on top of ice. I slip-ran the race all easy pace instead, disappointed in the weather and berating myself for “being an ice-fearing wimp.”

It turned out to be one of the coldest, snowiest Februarys on record. Despite gratitude and amazement for the manner and timing of moving to Northeast Ohio, I felt pangs of regret over leaving a mild climate.

March

Land ahoy! March 1 was the date of my first 20 miler as well as the first long run of the year that did not involve staring at an electronic console.

With two months of cushioned belt running, my legs were less prepared to take on the Boston Marathon course than they had been a year earlier training in flat coastal North Carolina. Attempting to make up for lost time, I sought climbs, rolling terrain, and descents on run after run. The Shamrock 15K race, which steeply then relentlessly climbs for its last 5 miles, was a good challenge that left no doubt that I have some work to do.

Reluctantly, winter released its frigid lock on Northeast Ohio. Climbing up and cruising down the miles, I spotted spring robins and saw near-record snowfall become gushing melt.

Brandywine Falls, Cuyahoga Valley National Park

With the arrival of spring , by the calendar if not yet the thermometer, I had an opportunity for another 3.1 mile test. The Strongsville Super Saturday course was not perfectly flat like the San Diego race, but thankfully it offered clear, dry pavement. Channelling February’s 5K frustration up a steep second mile hill, I hung on and for the first time found myself at the Finish in less than 23 minutes. After feeling like much of last year was a running recession, an unexpected PR was an extra rewarding surprise.

In this new season of rejuvination, I’m especially determined to give myself and training extra TLC in the coming 24 days leading to Boston. I’ll share highlights here before the dust has a chance to settle again.

The Blue Blaze Beckons

This Saturday is the 15th running of the Buckeye Trail 50K, a rugged trail endurance run out and back on approximately 16 of the 1,444 miles of Ohio’s Buckeye Trail. Painted blue blazes mark the way, and have become a welcome sight on training runs I’ve done there over the past month.

The race began as an informal, low-key type run and has evolved into a popular event now organized by Vertical Runner. This year’s installment sold out early at 175 entrants. 

Group training runs on segments of the course have been beneficial and, I believe, will allow for a more relaxed race day. As I explore trail running and ultra-running, I know I have so much more to learn, but thanks to practice and great instruction from more experienced runners am starting to get the hang of the differences in running technique, pacing, and fueling. There are a lot of times when I feel awkward and wobbly, but also increasing sections where I find a groove and feel like I’m (slowly) dancing over the dirt and roots. Either way, I love the sights, sounds, smells, and peaceful feeling of trail running, and know I will keep seeking trail time well after tomorrow.

It looks like race day will offer a relatively fast, dry trail, but the added challenge of a hot day. I’m as ready as I can be save for the threat of a cold, and looking forward to putting all the new skills I’ve been practicing to the test.

Text And The Trail

Forty minutes into the woods, well before the planned turn-around point, I abruptly stopped in front of this. Four days earlier, it was soft creek bed with a shallow puddle here and there. Easily passable.

To my neophyte trail-running self, I was now poised in front of the raging, rushing River Styx.

My first impulse was, “OK, adjust plans. Go back 40 minutes to the start and either do a shorter out and back from there repeating this section, or continue for a bit on the next section of the 50K course.”

Immediately, I questioned that. I don’t know much about traversing trails, but I do know that my default is to be overly cautious on them and that I am not naturally nimble. Just a few years ago I busted open both knees when I tripped on the pancake-flat, smooth, easily navigable C & O Towpath. My rear end still has a faint bruise from a spill I took on a much less challenging trail in January.

I wondered what my more experienced ultrarunning friends and mentors like Lloyd and Meredith would do. It occurred to me that I could ask. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo, and beamed it over to Lloyd.

“Am I supposed to cross this?!?”

“Yes! Don’t wash away.”

“Uhh … here goes nothing.”

I talk to myself a lot on the trail, and launched into a motivational monologue. “OK … you’re just going to do this. Pretend you’re at the beach wading through the surf. This is part of trail running. You might have to do this in the race. What is the worst that could happen? You slip and ruin your cell phone. Hmm, that would be really inconvenient. I hope that doesn’t happen. I won’t let that happen!”

With the new mission to preserve my phone, I plunged a leg into the calf-high creek. It wasn’t deep, but the water was moving and I couldn’t see what I was putting my feet into. Tentatively and slowly, I wobbled across, letting my feet explore the rocks and holes as if they had eyes. I pictured a great photo taken of Lloyd mid-creek during his successful 100-mile run attempt. He strides confidently, leaning forward, his skilled posture announcing, “I am parting these waters!”

Then I tried to picture how I looked at that moment. Unsure, unbalanced, with arms and fingers splayed out Karate Kid-style for balance, as if I could grab the air to steady myself. Had I not been concentrating so hard on avoiding a spontaneous swim, I would have laughed out loud at the image.

A few hesitant steps later, my feet reappeared before me on the wet, muddy bank.

My phone had survived the crossing bone dry, so I pried it out of my shorts pocket to let Lloyd know of my safe passage. I tried to sound nonchalant.

“Not so bad.”

Having got my feet wet with water crossings, there was nothing else to do but continue forward.

‘08 is Still Great!

Tuesday marked the mid-point of 2008 and the six-month anniversary of this nook of the Internet I like to call my cyberspot. Riding a high of accomplishing a two-year running goal and a reunion of sorts with myself, I intended to infuse extra positive momentum and great expectations into 2008. From its beginning, In The Distance was a little part of that plan. It’s been even more satisfying and fun than I imagined to record the days here, and I appreciate that a few people have taken time to read and comment.

Looking back to the start of the year, I feel like I have been reborn into an emerging new world of deepening friendship, travel to unfamiliar locations, my first Boston Marathon and ultramarathon distance completed, and fund-raising and professional goals met.

Running-wise, since Boston I’ve barely had a run I was happy with performance- and pace-wise, and races have been mediocre at best in terms of finish time. I won’t pretend I wear such deeply-shaded rose-colored glasses that I’m ignorantly blissful of this, but I believe frustration and self-criticism only compound a slump. After two years of almost singular goal-work and improvement a lull is natural, and I am practicing patience and consistent mileage as I look forward to another growth period. Moving forward at a slightly slower pace is still infinitely preferable to not being able to participate.

I dream of a satisfying effort in a difficult trail 50K in *gulp* two weeks, and switching gears to cover distances faster again this fall. Occasionally I let myself fantasize about moving forward for many more miles, both in one single run and for decades. I will focus on the combination of self-care and a little luck to be so fortunate.

At work, I’ll begin a new position in a few short weeks. Between relocating and teaching three new courses fall semester at a new-to-me college, I anticipate being almost as busy as when I started in the classroom full-time four years earlier. Thankfully, I have those years under my belt to help. Experience has taught me that you can’t begin to know a place without living there, but I am optimistic that I am heading in the right direction both geographically and culturally.

Although it always feels great to get on the mat, my physical yoga practice is probably the least frequent and weakest it has been in half a decade. I am beyond excited to be moving somewhere with several good yoga studios within walking distance instead of an hour’s drive away. On the other hand, I’ve been blessed to experience the mental benefits of regular meditation practice. They are immeasurably helpful during situations that previously would have tested my empathy and admittedly limited patience.

Even with the gifts of yoga and good fortune, I’m far from perfect. That’s not the point. But in case this entry is taking on the tone of a holiday brag letter, suffice to say there are several areas where I currently lack needed discipline and continue to look for answers.

Most importantly of all, I aspire to end 2008 feeling I’ve contributed my best each day, and closer to cherished ones in every sense of the word. My best intentions remain fixed on that.

Running in Hell

My true feelings for the small eastern North Carolina community I’ve inhabited for nearly four years have ranged from private loathing to precariously negotiated contentment. Though I’ve always tried to make the best of being somewhere where a healthy, progressive way of being is by default a radically alternative lifestyle, I’ve never embraced the local culture. Truthfully, I never thought it worth it the effort and internal change required for that to happen.

With my time here waning, I experienced a realization: This really, truly is Hell.

The epiphany arrived with an unseasonable heat wave earlier this week. “It’s 99 in the shade,” isn’t an exaggerated cliche. Additionally, when the wind shifts just so it delivers smoke and haze from a 30,000-acre wildfire contained but still smoldering 45 minutes south. It’s as if the fire and brimstone ever-threatened from the pulpits of un-airconditioned Southern Baptist churches has finally arrived to punish us for all our evil-doings.

What’s a would-be ultramarathoner to do about the torrid conditions? Run in them — but with modifications and precautions. Here’s how I kept from getting too hot and bothered.

Beat the heat.Finding the most temperate conditions meant getting started by 6 a.m. and finishing before the sun rose too high. As pre-dawn activity isn’t my true nature, I traded one comfort zone for another. It was more than worth it.

Slowed down and drank up. In heat and humidity, I’m good at my usual training paces for an hour, tops. I gave myself permission to ignore pace and run by feel, always finding a comfortable effort. Though speed decreased, the frequency of needing liquid increased significantly. Carrying water or stashing refreshing bottles of melting frozen Gatorade to sip from quenched my thirst.

Searched for shade. The neighborhood where I live has no shade and plenty of baking pavement. Not ideal. The extra time and effort to drive to a tree-lined section of town and nature trails near the breezier coast paid off. I still felt the sweaty weight of saturated air, but never had the sensation of being too hot. Thank you trees!

Sought motivation.If pushing through humidity ever started my mind grumbling, I reminded myself that no one makes me run, and the ability is a privilege. I thought of runners who complete the inferno-like Badwater Ultramarathon. I thought of soldiers in Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Iraq, letter carriers, and laborers, for whom making a living requires being active in any conditions. I looked ahead to when safe training in heat will provide an additional increase in fitness.

Treated myself to the treadmill. One day I pampered myself on the treadmill with built-in fan and satellite radio in the climate-controlled YMCA. The relief of not having to deal with sticky conditions translated into a grateful, super-charged run. It was more like going to the spa for eight miles.

Reviewed information about running in hot weather. It’s potentially life-saving to follow these practices and recognize signs of heat illness. I stayed mindful to the typical symptoms I experience when overheated: chills, nausea, and cramping.

Temperatures above 75 degrees Fahrenheit will never be ideal for performing an activity that raises the body’s temperature. But with time and safety practices, the amazing human body will adjust. After all, people have lived and run comfortably in the Middle East and Southern Hemisphere for thousands of years. I aim to follow in their footsteps.

If you’ve got a tried-and-true method of keeping your cool, please add it in a Comment.