Why Brad decided he wanted to start running in July is beyond me. This morning it was like running through a steaming hot bowl of soup. Salty, sweat-flavored soup. It was so humid it wasn't even worth it to detour through peoples' sprinklers because when it's this humid, water doesn't evaporate. Running is becoming an exercise in leaving the house, collecting as much moisture on our clothes, skin and hair as we can, and then coming home and attempting to remove it using MORE WATER. I can practically hear the laughter coming from all the people driving by in their air conditioned cars as we lurch by, spraying drops of sweat with each movement.

The worse it gets outside, the more stubborn I am about running. I will run through the humidity, the heat, and even the horseflies (evil, evil horseflies) because I'm not going to let them beat me. I'm much more likely to give up on something like this if the weather is perfect and I have no excuse. It irks me sometimes how much I depend on adversity.