Labor Day has come and gone, and a new season is here. School has started, and at least in new York, the weather has turned to distinctly Fall-esque. Temps in High 70s, with a chill in the air at night. The US Open is on TV, and you can see people actually cold at night. It makes me remember going to baseball games in Texas where the scoreboard would have the temperature at 95 degrees -- at 9 p.m. at night. I love Fall; always have.
Florida running is always interesting. Aside from being the brightest place on earth (or at least for me), the weather is really darn unpredictable. It seemingly rains every day at some point, the humidity and heat spontaneously combusting with the water from the Gulf of Mexico to produce an afternoon shower. Except when it comes in the morning (see below). And this year, for whatever reason, the weather was moving the exact opposite direction -- from Southeast to Northwest. So all my instincts were wrong about which way the rain was heading, the wind was blowing, etc.
That leads to my last Florida run, a planned 6.5 mile jaunt at about 11 a.m. on a partly cloudy morning. Set off at a good pace, and then, about 1 mile before my turnaround point, I felt a rain drop. I could either turn around, and cut the run at 4 miles or so, or push on and deal. I pushed on and dealt. But then, more drops, and then an out and out downpour. Not a little rain, a real shower. Yuck. I stopped to get some water at a convenience store and waited to see if it would pass. It didn't. My shirt and hat were dripping. My shoes -- waterlogged and squishy. Glasses were rain speckled but also indispensable as they kept the rain out of my eyes. And I was 3 miles from home. I got back out, figuring I didn't have all day and the rain wasn't going to pass anytime soon, and might as well deal with. And the rain slackened somewhat, but it was still raining hard. And the streets and sidewalks were now flooded. Running through giant puddles created by overwhelmed storm drains, muddy sand off the sidewalks and streets, cars splashing in said puddles. Yuck. Time to not worry about pace and just get home. A survival run. Not very much fun.
And I forgot to restart my Garmin (or the rain stopped it, which has happened before), and because it was wet, I couldn't get it restarted. I have never felt more helpless, drenched in the rain, punching buttons and trying to get my Garmin going. I just pushed on and whatever. So when I got home, my Garmin showed a 3 mile run. Thanks Garmy. I am thinking it may be time for a new Garmin. This one is 2 and a half years old, and the buttons are beginning to stick. And the bezel is more finicky than ever.
But then the next day, an easy trip back to New York... and fall. We landed and it was 73 degrees. And sunny and dry. Good to be home. Back to college football season!