It's hot in Florida. Really hot. As a wise Floridian who grew up in the hot sun (and never understood the expression "fun in the sun") I have a word of advice to my dear readers.
If, when you climb onto the roof to clean the gutters in the morning you happen to burn your fingers on the shingles, do not attempt a 3.5 mile barefoot run in the afternoon on an asphalt trail.
A Florida native would never do this. Unfortunately, I was born in Rochester, New York. My calluses are strong enough I didn't know it was so hot until I was mostly to the park. Thank goodness there was grass most of the way back, but even grass gets hot in Florida sun. Today I ran in sneakers. It felt weird. The funny thing is, it was harder. Yesterday I ran faster than ever and didn't feel it in my legs or lungs because all I was thinking was "home, home, home."
Am I giving up barefoot running? Not a chance. Running with shoes just isn't the same.
