Every person, literally EVERY PERSON, I have encountered has had the same comment about me spending my first summer in the East. Whether it be an aunt, coach, cousin, brother, best friend, professor, granddad, next door neighbor, ex boyfriend, current boyfriend, current boyfriend’s mom, custodial staff or rite aid attendant, EV-ER-Y body has made a snarky/sarcastic (read: snarcastic) comment on the humidity.
Needless to say, I was a little nervous about the transition. Until now, I’ve spent every summer of my young life in high mountain desserts, where the sun is hot and the air dry– where rain evaporates before it hits the ground and overexposure creates entire populations of tan, rugged jerky-people.
One specific part of the humidity terrified me: getting all sweaty.
I may be a full-time athlete, but I’ve still got my vanities. Even in the arid climate, I remember finishing intervals drenched while my female teammates strode by, dry hair blowing in the wind.
“Uh, yeah,” I’d awkwardly stumble, “I just poured water on my head…and back…and legs…and butt.”
In a nutshell, I spent a lot of time cooking up excuses for my overactive sweat glands and avoiding the color grey.
[Digression: “gland” is a terrible, terrible word. Its use should be reserved solely for health care professionals in their sterile, enclosed workplaces. Same rule also applies “moist” and “secrete.” Since glands are our bodies’ way of disposing of things we don’t need anymore, I will here on out refer to them as “dumpsters” as the internet has given me no better synonyms. OK. Glad we got that out of the way.]
So, I have overactive sweat dumpsters. I got them from my daddy. And they were the reason I feared my first workouts in the Vermont summer. BUT, I’m going to let you in on a little secret (which I’m also posting on my public blog): I kind of like the humidity.
You see, when it’s humid out, everyone’s dumpsters are active. If you’re not sweating, there’s something wrong with you. No neck, shin or butt is safe from perspiration in the wild Vermont thicket. Worrying about out-sweating my training compadres is a thing in the past; we’re all icky! And we own it!
Sure, it’s not perfect. Life outside of training has been complicated a bit. I still definitely cannot wear grey and my clothes and towels are perpetually damp. Sleeping in thick air has also presented all kinds of new challenges.
But, hey, ya win some, ya lose some.