Mayor Bloomberg never ran in Texas in July.  Immediately after today’s 6 mile trail run along Brushy Creek in Round Rock, I drove to 7-11 for a Double Big Gulp of Diet Coke.  At 64 ounces, this Texas-sized beverage holds twice the volume as an average man’s stomach.  I’m siphoning out the last drops through the complimentary 12 inch straw as I write this blog.

Tuesday was a travel day and I didn’t have a chance to run.  That was fine because I had a good weekend of running.  Not that I enjoyed having my ass handed to me by Keith in the hills east of Boulder Sunday, but then I crawled in ahead of Steve on that ten miler in the heat.

Since flying down to Austin for my father-in-law’s 80th birthday celebration, I’ve hit the trail consistently.  Six on Wednesday, four on Thursday, and another six today.  I feel like I can handle the heat, it’s just odd sweating so much.  I took off my shirt today after 3 miles.  No one knows me here so I don’t have to worry about the screams of fright after they catch the glare off my butt-white paunch.

The weird thing is I had to walk a bit Wednesday and Thursday.  It wasn’t the heat.  I was running too fast.  I learned this coming down from altitude to run the Austin Marathon, but apparently needed to be reminded.  This phenomenon is such an easy trap to fall into.  You start off running fast because you can breathe so well.  Before you know it, oxygen debt weighs down your legs with lactic acid.  I kept it slow today and felt fine.  I have another four days down here before returning to Colorado.  I intend to keep it slow and focus on getting in some miles in case I run the 60 mile Gore-Tex TransRockies event in August.