33 degrees.

In August, when:

• I am slogging through air as thick as the white gravy my kids love so much;
• I am wearing only shorts and a sports bra and don't care who sees me;
• I can feel the sweat slowly roll from my head to the small of my back where it pools;
• I wait to run until the cool/er part of the night --- say 10 or 11 p.m.;
• I wear eau de Off as my perfume of choice;

I hope I remember tonight:

• The way the neighbors' fireplaces smelled.
• How the wind burned my face until it became numb.
• The sound a small puddle of ice made when I stepped in it.
• The still, the absolute silence of it all.