Sweat But No Tears
Not a term I would have used about Charlie a year ago. Sure, he's been doing bike rides regularly since Jim took off his training wheels when Charlie was 6.
But not for 20 miles (10 miles bike ride x 2) and not in 90 degree ++ temperatures.
Certainly when Charlie was younger we would not have taken him out in 100 degree heat, or 90 ++ heat. We would have worried that getting hot might well lead to behavior trouble. Consequently, some portion of summer days was passed in Target and its big box store equivalent and, inevitably, malls.
Absolutely fuggedabout taking Charlie to such places now, malls in particular. He is Not Interested.
Actually, I think this is a good development. One does need to run into the likes of Target from time to time but malls we can quite do without, thank you. Jim has zero interest (neither of my guys having the shopping gene, I think it can safely be said) and yours truly prefers to surf on the internets than to make like a mallrat herself. Indeed, I realize now how often I dragged Charlie into said over-air-conditioned places in summers of yore just to find some way to kill the time and beat the heat.
As related here, Charlie seems to have found his own way to deal with the heat which is to just go about his business walking, bike-riding, etc., the mercury be d***d. In this (admittedly sweaty) process, we have made the (actually pleasant) discovery that we can keep up the exercising in sauna-like temperatures; that the air-conditioning in our house works really really well (especially considering that this is an older house that has not always received the, ah, kindest treatment from its inhabitants, especially when it comes to the walls); and that, while the past two days of 90-ish temperatures have made for hot rides and walks, it all seems quite manageable after the complete hot, sweaty, misery of the past couple of weeks.
Even the New York Times says so in a July 28th article:
Indeed, the hot weather seems to draw out a certain type of person undaunted by the elements. While many people cower beneath fans until nightfall, some hearty souls head to hot yoga rooms, running tracks or bike paths to — gasp! — exercise, no matter the hour or the temperature.
The New York Times's Style section isn't usually the place where I expect to find a fits-to-a-T description of Charlie, but I have to say that paragraph quite describes our boy these days. 'Undaunted by the elements.' 'Hearty soul[s].' '— [G]asp! — exercis[ing], no matter the hour or the temperature.'
And Charlie's not even trying to get himself noticed and mentioned in a New York Times article to brag about his 20 bike-miles.
Wednesday was an all-around good day for him (and, consequently, us) and we headed back to the local carnival we'd gone to on Tuesday night. The line for the ferris wheel was very long. Charlie insists on that ride first but he handled going over to the Drop Tower—the majorly souped-up 'Frog Hopper'—and got right in line, and did a very nice job waiting with a lot of other kids (many just around his age). Afterwards he wanted the giant slide and waited with complete patience in line (long again). Then we made another pass by the ferris wheel: Miraculously, there were only two people waiting. Charlie and Jim were soon on and the man operating the ride came them a 'Charlie special,' an extra=long (as in extra) ride going around and around.
Sometimes it's nice just to be in motion, without burning up all those calories.