Hot As Balls

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My usual “take it easy” pace for a seven mile run is about 9 minutes a mile. I just suffered through that distance at an obscenely slow 13 minutes a mile. That included quite a bit of walking.

The moral of this undistinguished story is that 90 degree Southern Louisiana heat is not to be taken lightly. I didn’t see another person running or even riding a bike. But I did see a solid line at the snowball stand (sort of a shaved ice, but better). I’ll be hitting that bitch up a little later.

I was never athletic or even in shape when I lived in Louisiana. Part of the problem is that my asthma acts up and I can barely breathe here. As much as I romanticize moving back here, even the industrial wasteland that is West Oakland seems to be better for my lungs and overall health.

I’m not the only one who suffered running here today, though. My good buddy runs with his service pistol on his hip and the holster rubbed a hole through his pants and chewed up is ass. The lesson here? Make sure you have a comfortable carrying option for any apocalyptic scenario. It could save your ass.

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