Yesterday, the heat index went up into the hundreds, and the TV news was filled with warnings about avoiding heat stroke.

I ran our town’s annual road race.

I wasn’t going to. After all, it was damn hot, and I was the only person on my high school’s cross-country team who wasn’t a classic DSM-IV-definition masochist. But then I remembered Doctor Mama saying that the heat was NOT a good excuse for skipping a run. (Doctor Mama, you should be impressed that this stuck with me for almost three months. However, I still reserve the right to sue you for any damages to my person as a result of my run.)

Also, another post of Doctor Mama’s has been on my mind. Recently, she said,

Run because a fat runner is much healthier than a skinny couch potato. Run because it makes you strong. Run because it makes you happy in your own body, whether it’s lumpy or flat, tall or short, square or round. Run because you’ll live longer (and no, you won’t wish you were dead, ha ha). Run because when you’re out there running (as slowly as you can stand to, remember), you will have the experience of being alive in the world with your body doing what it was designed to do.

Excellent advice, all of it, and I’ve been thinking of another reason to run.

Because I still can.

Husband doesn’t get this. He’s never felt the encroaching ache of arthritis in the back or the rub of knee bone against bone. He doesn’t understand that I’m terrified that if I stop running, I’ll soon be incapable of running. He would argue that running actually causes those ailments, and I’m willing to concede that in some cases, this is true, but only one of my many relatives with diabetes is a runner, so I’m sticking with my method.

The run was fun. Slow, but fun. People lined the route with hoses (hence the wet t-shirt). I spotted several people that I knew (but no Jogging Jesus — in this heat, he’s probably running on water). Not every single person pushing a pair of twins in a stroller beat me this time. I ran the whole damn way, and even though I passed by many people who alternated running and walking, at my age that counts for something. Doesn’t it?

I’m glad I ran. I didn’t have anything to blog about, and now I do. Bloggo, ergo curso.