Hydrated

The morning provides little comfort from the heat of the day this time of year. Even before the sun crests over the eastern horizon it begins to get hot, and before long the burning ball of light in the sky and the unforgiving wind sap the life out of a anyone stuck outside. Dust kicks up in the breeze, the suns rays stab down to the earth, and a person ends up feeling dirt-peppered beef jerky if exposed to it too long, salty with sweat but not very tasty. The simple act of being outside is bad enough; in this kind of heat I don't mind shutting myself up inside, under the cooler, with a cold drink and Netflix, or maybe retreating into the high country to have it a little more pleasant.

But, of course, I've been running in the oppressive heat because I have a thing I want to do in a couple of days (a 4k, one whole k less than expected) and I'm an huge idiot.

Sweating bullets like a perspiration pistol has been reminding me to keep hydrated, especially while I'm kicking up dust trotting through the desert in 80 to 90 degree heat like a moron. I know I don't drink enough water under normal circumstances, and I know I'm usually kind of dehydrated anyway, so exerting myself in natures big convection oven has me very conscious of my water intake. Between a Camelbak, a couple Nalgene bottles, and countless glasses of water, I'm taking in a LOT, and if I wasn't sweating it all out I'd probably be in a constant state of peeing. Luckily for me, I feel pretty good despite the heat and the sweating, because there's been at least one instance where I've been hospitalized for not drinking enough water.

A number of years back I'd gone hiking in the Inyo Mountains with my father. The mountain range is notoriously arid, and I was younger and dumber than I am now, so I didn't drink nearly enough water. The day itself was a lot of fun; seeing the Sierra Nevadas off to the west, quality time with my dad, and poking around the desert was a hoot, but after doing that all day, spending most of the evening drinking soda and eating salty foods at the movie theater, I ended up having to go to the ER. They ran a full battery of tests, from blood work to a CT scan to a freaking spinal tap at three in the morning, just to be certain the headache and nausea I came in with wasn't anything serious, but I think it was simply dehydration from being stupid in the desert and loving junk food.

We'll never know.

It's going to be hot for a few more months. It makes me wish for winter every year because I'd rather curl up with a cup of coffee by the fire than desperately guzzling a gallon of water and a couple liters of Gatorade under a cooler vent. I have to relent to obsessively maintaining proper hydration, being soaked in sweat like I've been sitting in the worlds grossest splash zone, and wishing for sweater weather to come around again for the time being, but the challenge of not feeling mummified will at least keep me occupied.