I've had the running schedule planned for two weeks now. I was running every other day, right up until Saturday...until today.
I got an opportunity to travel to Qatar today. My goal was to log a long run in, but the moment I got off the aircraft my lungs were on fire. Literally, when I breathed in liquid fire came in instead of air. The streets are cleverly concealed pits of black lava, which makes me wonder if their tires here aren't made of a rubbery asbestos material. I tried to walk down a paved jogging trail, but the material my boots were made of could only take so much before sublimating into charred husks.
Needless to say, I will probably have to wait until nightfall. Of course, the last time I was near this place was June of 2009, getting off of a plane to refuel at close to midnight. I remember a similar feeling of being blasted by heat as I walked off that plane as well - when the sun wasn't even shining. It really worried me that we were in for a rough time of it during my Iraq deployment, if the staging area was radiating heat in the black of night.
It turns out that the Arab Emirates are just hot as hell. I am told that summer months in Phoenix or San Antonio become similar pits of Hades, which means that I will never, never visit those places from March - October. I would rather get a pitchfork to the backside, which may actually happen if i were to find myself in these magma chambers. I'm not entirely sure that the Devil herself appears with a tiny pitchfork in these places in the summer months.
I am a man of the North. A Yankee, if you will. Winner of the War of Northern Aggression. What I didn't realize is that we also won the war of comfortable climate. It pains me that my daughters have acclimated to the burning jungles of Florida and North Carolina, while my northern bones require temperatures slightly below freezing in order to operate properly. My neighbors still wonder why I walk around in shorts and a wifebeater in late January, whereas I am just happy to not be walking on the surface of the sun.
Better go grab a reflective belt and some water bottles.
I got an opportunity to travel to Qatar today. My goal was to log a long run in, but the moment I got off the aircraft my lungs were on fire. Literally, when I breathed in liquid fire came in instead of air. The streets are cleverly concealed pits of black lava, which makes me wonder if their tires here aren't made of a rubbery asbestos material. I tried to walk down a paved jogging trail, but the material my boots were made of could only take so much before sublimating into charred husks.
Needless to say, I will probably have to wait until nightfall. Of course, the last time I was near this place was June of 2009, getting off of a plane to refuel at close to midnight. I remember a similar feeling of being blasted by heat as I walked off that plane as well - when the sun wasn't even shining. It really worried me that we were in for a rough time of it during my Iraq deployment, if the staging area was radiating heat in the black of night.
It turns out that the Arab Emirates are just hot as hell. I am told that summer months in Phoenix or San Antonio become similar pits of Hades, which means that I will never, never visit those places from March - October. I would rather get a pitchfork to the backside, which may actually happen if i were to find myself in these magma chambers. I'm not entirely sure that the Devil herself appears with a tiny pitchfork in these places in the summer months.
I am a man of the North. A Yankee, if you will. Winner of the War of Northern Aggression. What I didn't realize is that we also won the war of comfortable climate. It pains me that my daughters have acclimated to the burning jungles of Florida and North Carolina, while my northern bones require temperatures slightly below freezing in order to operate properly. My neighbors still wonder why I walk around in shorts and a wifebeater in late January, whereas I am just happy to not be walking on the surface of the sun.
Better go grab a reflective belt and some water bottles.
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