Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.

Saturday, September 03, 2005


It's standard in the 21st century for September to be hot. The month has started well, and I have just been for a fantastic run around Iffley Village, along the river Thames, through Christchurch meadow, and then up and through Headington and South Parks.

An aspect of the hot weather I particularly enjoy is the act of exercising in it. Returning home, the pounding muscles and particularly the glistening sweat on my arms are the purest indication of my acheivement.

Even in cold weather, one runs up a sweat, but it's only in the heat of summer that this truly works as a fuel for one's personal sense of acheivement at the day's exercise.

When I used to play ultimate frisbee, most of my teammates cowered in the face of fierce heat, unable to cope with it. I couldn't understand that feeling; I still can't. Running in the sunshine is as close to running perfection as I could imagine.

Can I just say the previous sentence is one I never thought I would type? I have long been an evangelist against the boredom of jogging. Things change, and I also attribute the change to my Creative Zen and the BBC's Podcasts.

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