Touch my neck. You know what’s there? Sweat! It’s amazing.
A runner and cyclist who has been living in Evergreen for almost three years now, I had almost forgotten about the concept of sweat. Even on the warmest summer days, I rarely break a sweat in this dry, temperate environment. I had almost forgotten about that greasy, sticky feeling.
But I’m away from Colorado for a week and a half, making a circuit as I attend a wedding, an ordination, with a trip to Vermont in the middle to check on a couple rental properties I own and manage. Today I ran five miles on a 70 degree, sunny day in Rebersburg, Pennsylvania, where my sister Julie is the new pastor of a couple of churches. From her parsonage located smack dab in the middle of Amish farm country, I did a bucolic jaunt through farmland, inhaling the pungent scent of cow manure and dodging the horse and buggies.
A few days ago I loped along the lakes in Central Vermont, on an unseasonable 85-degree day.
Last weekend I ran out and back on the Boardwalk of Atlantic City, enjoying the screeching of the seagulls and occasional sight of a graceful pelican.
Three very different runs, with one thing very much in common: sweat. (Also, I was way faster there. I am superwoman at sea level!)
To the shower!
