Drowning in heat …

… and it’s not that nice dry high-rollin’ Vegas heat. It’s in the high 90s (36°C) and the viscous humidity is soaking everyone and making us all sour. They’ve been sending kids home early for the last few days, because New England schools don’t have air conditioning—and do have helicopter parents.

Relief is predicted—in the form of violent thunderstorms, welcome in the circumstances—and tomorrow will be in the mid 80s (30°C). Better yet, on Friday, we’ll be heading again for Vermont and New Hampshire. H is taking a quick weekend to attend her 5th college reunion, and we are having the joy of picking her up at the airport and taking her north. When we’re together in Hanover, she and I usually have a good run on the gorgeous cross-country course, but at 7 months pregnant, she’ll probably be afraid I could beat her. (And I could make it close, I’m pretty sure.)

(Next year will be my 40th. During my four years, I spent way too much time in locker rooms, training rooms, field houses, and on various tracks, courses, and roads …

… and way too little on ski slopes and high ridges, so I think I’ll pass on the flabfest. Perhaps my granddaughter and I will take a walk. She’ll be ten months old by then and ready to roll.)

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