Last week was complete bunk. Humidity is draining - and after three days of sweaty, oily discomfort last week I had had enough. I wasn't made for hot weather (think flushed red face, white girl afro and a trail of sweat following me wherever I go). By Thursday I was almost ready to buy an air conditioner.

I debated the purchase - along with whether or not to go to the group run.

I decided to forgo them both.

I figured, with only one month left until the Beach to Beacon, my opportunities to play hooky were rapidly decreasing. All along I've said, "Sure, I'm not 100% committed, but I don't really have to be until July."

Now it is July. Crap.

Not that I've been completely useless. I do stuff. Like...like...just stuff, okay! Quit harassing me!

But this next month will decide whether I run across that finish line or wave to it from the back of an ambulance.

I wanted to run this morning, but couldn't due to the severe drizzle storm.

What? Stop looking at me like that.