I am walking back from my run, sweat pouring down my face, my body sausaged into my Richard Simmons style tank top and short running pants (in a more discrete aqua than his red, white and blue), when an woman perhaps my age (somewhere between 50 and 65 I'd guess) stopped me and asked if I'd been running all my life. I replied that no, I started running when I was 61. Well, how old are you now, she asks, saying I don't look 61. I told her 63. She kept saying over and over that I didn't look that old. She asked a bit about running and we chatted for a while. She wanted to know how far I run. I told her on Fridays I run 5K. She was impressed. So, I know that 5K is a short run for lots of runners. But, any way, not bad for an old broad.
It was 78 when I went out. Now, 78 should be a reasonable temperature. Thought I would die. I can't believe how humid it is here. I'm swimming. High today 98, with a heat index in the 107 range.
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