12 miles in 85 plus heat

I lied. I said I was going to run 8 miles, but instead, I punished myself for jogging too slowly the first 4 miles and went for the 12. It’s an out and back route on a trail 6 miles long here in Fleming Island, Florida. The weather advisory is, don’t run unless you run early. I start out at 7:30, not early enough. The humidity is already heavy and can hardly breathe freely. My body is laboring and trying to slow me down. It’s only 4 miles!? Turn around, make it 8 miles and call it a day. Besides, you went to bed at 12 last night. But I ignore common sense. At six miles, it’s time to turn around. But how do I get home. I’m practically jogging in place. I am committed not to walk. 8 miles passes– only 4 miles left. I must earn every mile sucking thin air. The heat, 85 plus, is broken by shady places. I pray for water. I really pray because I fear dehydration and heat stroke. God gives me a cool breeze. 2 miles left now. My legs are broken. It’s ALL will power. I stumble like I’m drunk, but I will not walk. I arrive home beat up physically, but uplifted mentally. I am confident. I jogged the whole 12 miles under adverse conditions. Fortunately, I had drank enough water beforehand and survived.

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