... and then they turn into flies.
Boy, do I love a good hot-weather run. Muscles loose, no extra clothing, the amazed stares of neighbors as I return beet-faced and trailing a rivulet of sweat up the street ...
It’s going to get hot, and you are going to run, maggots. Run early if you can; go even slower than you originally thought possible; drink before you go, but not so much that you get hyponatremic; and don’t listen to the haters who tell you you’re crazy.
Find your wings, little maggots!
[Update: some answers in the comment section.]