Diagram of a mega-crappy run in paradise

(How's that for a title, huh?)

Back to the story. My wife, I and our three boys were at the beach late last week for several days of post-baseball, post-All Stars season family vacationing fun in the sun. With school only out for the past 2 weeks, summer is just getting cranked up here in Georgia, so we really enjoyed spending time together at the beach, the pool, the boardwalk, and some less-than-stellar food establishments, but that's another topic altogether.

So, what do you expect I am going to want to do while at the beach? Yep, you got it. I had my gear packed and checked and with us in our condo, just waitin' to be used. Beautiful weather, gorgeous scenery to help the miles pass by, and plenty of time to get er done in the mornings. Like I said, Perfect.

...eh, maybe not so much.

I get out the door around 9:40am on Friday morning, only to find that the summertime on the Florida coast is a bit different than in rural Georgia. You see, Georgia mornings are relatively mild in temperature until around 10:45 or 11:00 in the morning. That leaves plenty of time to get a solid run in before temps get ridiculously hot. Apparently, the rules in Florida are a bit different. It was SMOKIN' hot as I stepped out the condo door. I don't mean warm, either. I mean HOT and humid.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, I love running in the heat of summer. Lunchtime runs are some of my favorites of all. But only after I've acclimatized to the summer heat and humidity. Apparently, I have not acclimated yet because I was about to endure a suffer-fest of mammoth proportions.

I get the Garmin synched up, push "Play" on the ipod, and off I go along the beach on a nice, wide bike path. Since I had taken the previous 2 (yes, I actually took 2 whole days off) from running, I was feeling pretty darn fresh and stoked about running in such a beautiful place. You know what comes next.

I dropped the hammer (for me, anyway) and started nailing out 6:20 pace miles. There were some other runners and walkers on the path, but I was able to just rip by them without even trying hard. I was thinking to myself about how easy this run was going to be. 3 miles out, 3 miles back, and done.

Have you ever noticed that just about the time you get cocky and start thinking you're bulletproof, the wheels come off? That's exactly what happened next. The wheels came off. Big time.

Long story short; I ended up walking most of miles back home. Yeah, walking. I walked more on that 6 mile run than I have walked in 50k races. I emptied the tank a little too quickly, had a little much cockiness to me, and paid a nice high price for doing so.

Humbled was I. I hope I learned something in this, and I hope never to repeat it again.

Have you had one of these "disaster" run episodes? Drop me a note or comment and give me all the gory details.