It's Not the Heat, It's the Stupidity

We've been having a heat wave. Finally. Usually summer is stinking hot in Toronto but this year, all we've gotten was the stink. Garbage strike, rain and fruit flies. That's what our dog days have been mired with. Until now. Until I joined bootcamp. Ok - the two things have nothing to do with each other but I still can't fail to notice that both summers I decide to undertake some kind of physical fitness challenge, it gets hot. A few years ago it was running. My partner likes to run. I hate running. But I stupidly thought it would be fun to do something together that was a healthy way to spend our time. I had visions of leaner, meaner versions of ourselves stomping along leaf-strewn paths, hearing nothing but our measured breaths and the wind in our ears. Very romantic - except that he left me in the dust and I was panting at the end of the pack, desperate to just finish the damn run. By the time I got back to the meeting point, some of the people in the group had stretched and gone home. Humiliating. I am also not in the least bit attractive when I exercise. Instructors often look at me with concern during class because my face is so red I look like I'm about to keel over from a heart attack. And the sweating. I shouldn't even bring it up. Let's just say, there aren't any toxins left in my body after I work out.

People are relentless in their complaints about the weather, though. They complain if it's good and they complain ( slightly more frequently) if it's bad. I'm sick of hearing people complain. I came to this realization last week, which is fine. Except that now I'm complaining about people complaining and that makes me just as bad.

So I'm trying to embrace the constant stream of sweat that trickles down my back, and the sticky feeling of my neck that replaces the refreshment of my cool morning shower minutes after stepping out the door and the fact that I have to wash every article of my clothing after one wearing. Summer is here and I'm going to love it if it kills me. Besides, it's already mid-August. It will be a distant memory before we can say, another pint of Keith's please!