AUGUST

”Jesus Christ, Sheffield. Again?” My training partner has no pity on me when I swoon along the route. I’ve been on the job one week and passed all the way out twice, plus a few stumbles.

”There’s a heat wave,” I tell him, guzzling the water he holds in front of my face.

”What’d I tell you? Small sips at first, man. Are you not hydrating in the evenings?”

August in Pittsburgh means ...