At approximately 6:45 a.m. this morning, 6/29/05, a strange phenomenon of the natural world occurred: invisible rain.
The air simply turned into one giant raindrop, covering the sweltering smoldering sinkhole that d.c. becomes in the summer. It didn't splash down, refreshingly. No, no. It just enveloped the entire city, like the way the fake sky enveloped the fake town in the Truman Show. So if one ran far enough, one would eventually bump into its outer edges, and perhaps through to the outside.
In other words, it's not the heat, honey, it's the humidity.
It was like running through water, my lungs sucking in vain for what few precious oxygen molecules remained. I do believe I became amphibious. Which will come in handy the next time I'm drowning.
Despite not being able to breathe, I finished my four-mile run this morning in 46:24, approximately 36 seconds faster than Monday's run.
I guess I've been breathing air all these years purely out of habit, for kicks, for the fun of it.
One less vice.