We’re travelling this weekend, so I tried to pack in the miles early. After Saturday’s marathon, I did 1.6 miles Sunday, 8.4 Monday, 6 Tuesday, and 12, count’em 12 on Wednesday. Well, 11.7 anyway. Instead of driving to the running store for my usual run, I ran down there and ran back.
Now, I’m not sure if it’s because of all the miles I’ve run — 60 (eek!) over the last seven days — or if I didn’t have enough to eat that day, or if I just psyched myself out, but by mile seven or so of the twelve miler I was feeling just plain dead. My legs didn’t hurt but they had been getting gradually more dead feeling as the run went by. I was tired and ravenously hungry. After I got home I decided shoving as much food down my throat as fast as possible was the best way to go. Much to my delight, someone had left a dense, buttery, chocolate pastry with almonds in a take-out box in the fridge. I didn’t know if I was allowed to eat it but I had at it anyway. Better to beg forgiveness than wait around, starving, for permission. (It later turned out I was the intended target all along for that heavenly fatty cholesterol bomb.)
Today I did six more miles at lunch, and felt fine. So I’m still not sure what was up with yesterday.
I'd Rather be Running 
I think about your running in all this heat sometimes.
A friend had a link up by Olympian Jeff Galloway about running in different temps: http://www.jeffgalloway.com/training/tips_archives/seasonal.html
Figured I pass it along!