There is NOTHING GOING ON. And you are about to read an entire entry about absofuckinglutely nothing. Have fun with that.
My running is not exactly at a standstill, but it's slowed down some (which is barely possible at my tortoise-like pace, but I seem to have achieved the unthinkable). It's hot now, even in the early mornings, and I don't run so much as ooze along the sidewalk, sweating madly, praying TO GOD to get me through whatever miles I'm doing that day. I mostly stay in my neighborhood, and I put a squirt bottle of ice water in a particular spot so that I don't have to lug it along with me, but I can swing by for a drink when I need to. Which is a lot.
When it's not hot, it's raining, and I don't run in the rain. This is partly because with rain usually comes lightning, and I'm not stupid. It's also because I don't run without an iPod for several reasons, and getting an iPod wet is not entirely advisable. Unless, you know, you don't want it to WORK anymore. The upshot of all this bitching is that I still run several times a week, but not as much as I want to, and I sure as hell don't enjoy it the way I do when it's cooler.
I can't WAIT until September. Or October, even. In the meantime, my figure is improving immensely, and my clothes are fitting quite a bit better and more loosely. And I absolutely cannot fathom why it is, with all of the very noticeable changes I see in my body and in the fit of my clothes, that I haven't yet gone down a dress size. It is the strangest damned thing, and the math just doesn't add up. I'm a little bit frustrated by it, but mostly I'm just bewildered.
My theory is that it's because NOTHING IS GOING ON. I don't know, maybe I'm dead and in purgatory. It's as good an explanation as any for the absolute uneventfulness that is currently my life.