I didn't really notice it wasn't summer anymore until our anniversary came around. Ed and I purposely got married in October so we'd have cool weather and fall foliage. So Tuesday we went out to dinner to celebrate two years, and Wednesday it was 91 degrees. Hot, yes, but nothing special - this past summer San Antonio had more days above 100 degrees than any summer in recorded history. The previous record was 36 days; 2009 had 59. It seemed to me that the average temperature was about 107. I had to run before the sun came up, or literally be sick the entire rest of the day, no matter how much water I carried in my cool new water belt. Yeehaw, bitches.
But fall has officially come, and we shouldn't have any more 90 degree days. And I don't have to get up before the sun. So this morning, when I got out about 7:45am, almost two hours after my summertime deadline for setting out, I was happy. And then I was cold, shivering cold, and ran faster to warm myself up. After a few minutes it wasn't unbearably, brutally cold, but I wished I'd worn long pants. I spent most of my run trying to think where I'd stashed all my winter clothes, since I'd need to change out my wardrobe in the next couple of days. I have a Nike stocking cap somewhere, I'd better find it before the half marathon in November. And my scarf. I'm gonna need that scarf.
To be fair, I got back a couple of hours ago, but according to weather.com it's 65 degrees in San Antonio right now. It's supposed to get up to 77 and sunny. I hope I can find my mittens!
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