Turning Up the Heat

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If you checked the weather button on this blog this afternoon, that was no mistake: The thermometer hit close to 100 for the second day in a row. Welcome to fall, Southern California style. We're in a Santa Ana, which means hot and dry weather that crisps outdoor vegegation, creating excellent kindling for brush fires. It also does a number on us humans exposed to the elements.

It occurred to me I might actually have to run part of my marathon in this mess, so I waited until it had cooled to 89 degrees and set out this afternoon for a run around Miramar Lake. Knowing my typical Thursday tempo run was not gonna happen, I strapped on my heart rate monitor and hit the lake's dirt trails for a change of pace. This is a rare treat for me since I'm usually spooked by the sights and sounds of slithering creatures and highly uncoordinated when it comes to dodging sticks, stones and mud bogs.

I can't gauge speed on such rocky terrain, so I use my heart rate to ensure I am
indeed workin' it. Only 12 minutes into this hot trail run, my frozen Gatorade bottle was completely thawed. It's a really cool trail, where each finger brings a slight change of both scene and scents. In the wetlands, there's also a lot more bugs and bees. I was cruisin' along, feeling confident and somewhat carefree, when I passed a set of thickly leafed bushes and heard the distinct sound of rattlesnakes. The heart rate shot up. I must have gotten too close to a nest. At times the path narrows and the bushes and trees close in. But as soon as claustrophia starts to surface, a clearing comes along. It helps when you can hear voices on the asphalt road overhead. I'm not sure why, but in all the years I've run down here I've rarely seen the trail used.

On the return, remembering where to avoid the snake nest, I took my last swig of Gatorade, which by then was the temperature of my morning tea. It had the same laxative effect too, and a quarter-mile from the finish the cramps hit hard. I shuffled to the restroom, then home, where I had the rare occasion to track dried mud all through the house.

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