There is a downside to the long-term weather forecast. As race day approaches I start my endless obsessing with matters completely out of my control. There is much to preoccupy my thoughts, but the weather is one of my favourite fixations. I start about fourteen days before the big event, my emotions roller-coastering along with the ever changing forecast. I’m looking at weather charts and systems, trying to muddle through the foreign language of meteorology, all in search of a glimmer of hope. My glimmers are often if X happens in Nunavut and Y happens in Florida and the moons of Jupiter are in the house of the rising sun, then there is a .02% chance of cool and overcast conditions on race day. I am not alone in these weather-checking tendencies. The week has been filled with a string of emails, each one funnier than the last, lamenting the most recent weather update and downgrading finish expectations to something along the lines of ‘before the course closes’.
A few days ago the weather for this weekend’s 50K fun run (yes, I’m still insisting on the fun) made a prediction I tried to immediately repress about the heat plus humidity making it “feel like 34C”. Translation “DNF”. Repression failed, panic rising. My incompatibility with the heat of summer is well-documented. I go from fine and dandy to comatose in about 20 minutes, with nary a bead of sweat ever forming. I simply will not make it to the finish line if the mercury, real or “feels like”, rises to oppressive levels. Unfortunately for me, by that I mean anything over 20C. Given the choice I would opt for wind, snowstorms, hail, or torrential rain over running in a climate to rival in the fiery depths of hell. 25C and I find religion, praying for it all to end. I’ve actually spent the last two days contemplating a distance downgrade, such is my aversion to warm, never mind hot, weather running. A certified (or certifiable) night owl, I have been getting up in the wee hours of the morning to beat the heat and it’s only June. To say I am a hopeless runner in the scorching sun is a dramatic under-statement. You may ask yourself why I am running a race (but, I must remind, not racing the run) in June. You know those ideas that seem good at the time? Yeah, that.
But there is hope. The weather tides have turned, not a complete 180 degrees but a promising 90. Four days from on-your-mark-get-set-go and The Weather Network is predicting 20C, 80% chance of rain, winds around 20km/hr. That’s about as perfect as I dare wish for in June. I’m quelling my excitement for fear of the pre-race jinx, but my optimism is rising despite myself. Truthfully, I’m overcome with sweet relief. I’m still ridiculously under-trained (chips on the theory that it is better to arrive at the start line 10% under-trained than 1% over-trained), but with one less thing to worry about. For now. Tomorrow’s forecast is likely to throw me into yet another tailspin.
Title Reference: James Taylor – Fire and Rain. From the album Sweet Baby James. 1970.
