August 2, 2000 -- 11:04 PM EST

Good grief -- where did the month of July go? I guesstimated the mileage I'll be covering and it puts me at 94 miles by next month. Think I ought to shoot for an even 100 and tack on the extra 6?

The way I feel right now I'd say "NO problem!" and not give it another thought. Yesterday was a different story.

103 deg F! Not only did I have a heat headache, I felt absolutely evil. I did NOT want to eat, drink any water, go anywhere, cook, or keep a food log. So I didn't. I spent the evening sacked out on the futon reading Bloom County collections in my underwear just trying to think relaxing and non-sweaty things.

But eventually I thought about training and I thought about my goals. It's the last godforsaken month of summer and the last month of this schedule. It's me versus the worst of Florida heat. I've hung on this long, albeit miserably. Then I decided to just nail the fucker. So I went to bed.

This morning I rolled out of the sack, dressed and was out the door by 5:30 AM. Zipped along near deserted roads listening to morning radio talking about The Who coming to play in concert, and babblings about developing traffic on main roads. Clocked in at the gym by 6 AM by a sleepy-looking desk clerk.

74 deg on the heat index. The gym nice and fresh and not stale smelling like it is at night after hundreds of hot, little bodies have cruised through there during the course of the day. Hardly anyone on the cardio floor.

Snagged by favorite cross trainer, and knocked out a solid 45 minutes and logged 4.5 miles. 10 min miles, thank you very much. Heart rate holding at 160-165.

I was so pleased with myself I knocked off 15 minutes early, collected my gear in the locker room, jumped back into the car and was pulling into my driveway at 7:07 AM in time to greet my neighbor who was watering her front porch plants in her pajamas.

I saw seven runners and walkers on the street on the way home and I had only one thought for them.

"Rock on, Tommy. Heat be damned!"

~Astrophe