Last week it so happened that I decided I really wanted to go outside for a run. I haven’t done that for a few months now since temperatures have been increasingly soaring and I decided to opt out of returning to work after my lunch break dripping with sweat. But, for whatever reason, I decided I actually love running and I should get back into it regardless. I hate to run in the gym because I think treadmills are up there with some of the most mundane things on the planet and I’ve usually decided I have more exciting things to do after about 20 minutes – take me back to running for an hour or so through beautiful Yorkshire countryside. I really do miss it.

So, I took myself out for a run the other morning. I then returned half an hour later, having drunk all of my water and drenched in my own sweat, whilst simultaneously complaining that it was actually a bit too hot to run outside, even at half six in the morning.

Turns out that my assertions were correct, since my choice of day for the first run in a while happened to coincide with Hong Kong’s hottest day in 50 years.

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