No, I did not run 15 miles again, this time I retraced my running steps on the bike. My two older girls got invited to a birthday party at Mission: Renaissance, a great little art school tucked in a shopping plaza just five minutes from the Santa Ana River Trail. While they drew this:
I rode my bike on the trail for 65 minutes. I thought it would be cool to take a different look at how far I’d run the day before. Ha ha, I said “cool.” I should have said “absolutely broiling hot.” It was 100 degrees Fahrenheit (37.8 degrees C) and I could swear it was even hotter on the black asphalt. By the time I walked my bike from my car to the trail, my elbow pits were sweating. Elbow pits? Please wait while I Google that term to see if it’s real. Hmm, it appears everyone knows what you mean by the elbow pit, but its scientific name is the cubital fossa. Good to know. I’m sure that will come up a lot in the future. Anyway, my cubital fossa was dripping with sweat and I hadn’t even started riding. Not a good sign. Then I hopped on the bike and it seemed like I stopped sweating altogether. The breeze, and by breeze I mean blast of hot air from an inferno, evaporated any sweat before it could even appear on my skin. Ooh, let’s have another scientific lesson, this time on how sweat evaporates:
In general when water evaporates it requires heat energy. The amount of heat energy required is called the latent heat of vaporization. If the water is not sitting on a stove that supplies the energy, the energy must come from someplace else…. When we sweat, our skin and clothing become covered with water. If the atmospheric humidity is low, this water evaporates easily. The heat energy needed to evaporate the water comes from our bodies. So this evaporation cools our bodies, which have too much heat.
(Source: Suite 101: Physics of Sweating). Nifty, our very own human cooling system! Except I didn’t feel very cool. I didn’t cool down until I headed back to Mission: Renaissance and grabbed some leftover fro yo from the birthday party. Chocolate with cookie dough topping, to be exact. Question: is 41 too old to call it fro yo? Just wondering. I fear I’m not that “cool.”