It’s hot outside. Europe is melting, Arizonians are frying eggs on sidewalks, and a few Democrat presidential candidates are starting to wonder if they really are already in the afterlife. Which meant it was the perfect day to run thirteen miles.
Yeah, about that… I’m not sure I’ve ever bombed a run quite that badly before. Although with my usual out and back routes for long runs, it was probably bound to happen eventually. At least I got to hang with another runner for a bit, who was also bombing her long run for the week. Misery loves company, especially when misery has a training schedule to keep.