(Yes, I know running in Vibrams isn’t really barefoot running, but minimalist running just sounds weird. I’ll work on it, I promise.)
Today sucked. Still glowing after my sub-nine-minute per mile, seven-mile run on Sunday night, I was pumped to run a mere four miles today. Because I’m either a sadist, stupid or such a huge bad ass that you can’t even comprehend it, I decided to run at 1pm, when the sun was baking the concrete and asphalt of downtown Phoenix. The temperature was a mere 93 degrees, about 10 degrees cooler than we normally get this time of year. I even limited myself to one shot of my inhaler in hopes that making today’s run hard would make my next runs easier.
I certainly succeeded in making it hard. The first mile was great. Feet pumping and my bald head cruising, I kept to an 8:50 pace that I knew I wouldn’t be able to improve, but I didn’t feel like I pushed it too hard. I was wrong. Whether it was because I had only had coffee and yogurt for breakfast, hadn’t slept well last night or just ’cause it was too friggin’ hot, I wanted to stop. I wanted to turn around and go home, but I’m not a wussy, so I kept going. Too many people walking the streets during the day in Phoenix, and me being shirtless and sweaty made me feel a bit out of place.
It got worse. The harder and deeper I tried to breathe, the shallower my breaths were and the more my throat hurt. I hadn’t drank a ton of water in the morning, so I figured that as long as I made it the 2.3 miles (Garmin, baby!) to the Light Rail stop on Osborn and Central, I’d be okay. I barely made it there and only after I slowed to a walk for a scant few feet in the shade. (Not that there is much shade in downtown or any part of Phoenix anyway.) My lungs hurt, my mouth was dry and my legs were tired.
The water, the little bit I swished around in my mouth, helped. Most of the time running the heat doesn’t bother me too much, as my body’s blood pressure skyrockets whenever I work out – my resting heart rate is great and my blood pressure is low normally – so I’m used to being hot while I run.
But damn, this time was different. Seeing as how I was only at 2.5 miles, I knew I could make the final 1.5 home, but was noticing a few symptoms that freaked the hell out of me and made me think I was on my way to passing out.
1. I couldn’t breathe deeply
My tongue, throat and lungs were fighting the heated air I was breathing, making me either take slow, deep breaths or quick, shallow ones, neither of which helped. Breathing through my nose was out of the question, as my nostrils can’t handle it.
2. I wasn’t sweating as much from my head as I normally do.
This may have had something to do with me not having any hair and the sweat was evaporating quickly, but my body wasn’t nearly as covered in sweat as normal. My normal sweat patch on my shorts was small, and that wasn’t good, as running in the Phoenix climate usually makes me sweat A LOT.
3. Water didn’t really help.
Gulping water every half mile at the light rail stations wasn’t doing a damn thing. As soon as I stopped drinking, my mouth was instantly dry again. That sucked. I wanted to walk the rest of the way, but again, I’m a bad ass, so I kept going.
I eventually made it home, a full 1:20 per mile slower than I ran on Sunday. I limped upstairs and gulped down a full glass of cold water, which hurt my stomach, and for some reason decided that popcorn and soda would be a good snack. Looking back, I was obviously a bit delirious. After another meeting and a light rail ride down to Tempe, I bought some chocolate, a Gatorade and water and started to feel better.
Lessons learned? Drink more water. Don’t run when it’s above 90 degrees with the sun overhead. Don’t be stupid.
Oh, and Katie yelled at me quite a bit for this one.
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