well, that was stupid

So, I've been kinda hampered by an annoying virus as of late. You know the type - coughing fits just as you're drifting off to sleep, a subtle decrease in energy that worsens the longer you're up and about. Not really feeling sick enough during the day to warrant sympathy from others but definitely not on top of your game. Ya know?

Yesterday I finally decided that I could no longer use it as an excuse to skip out on the whole daily exercise thing. Wasn't really feeling it so brought along a work-out buddy for further motivation. Because it had been a while and I was still a little weaker than normal, I made sure to start out with a good lunch rich in protein and accompanied it with plenty of water for hydration purposes.

Got off to a good but cautious start and gradually picked up the pace to my fast walk - the one I save for exercise and maneuvering the halls of the hospital. For the first mile I did just fine. Even managed to keep up with the flow of conversation. Then I noticed that I was I little more short of breath than normal. Decided it was probably a combo of my residual chest cold and the fact that I usually do this work-out solo and thus without talking. Another half mile or so and I noticed that I wasn't pumping my arms at all and that my pace had slowed. Weird. My muscles felt particularly weak and seemingly all of a sudden I noticed how oppressively hot it was outside.

The nausea hit at mile 2.

A quarter mile from home I was faced with the realization that if I didn't sit down in the next 3 seconds that I was going to either puke or pass out. Or both. I sat.

I sat there on a street corner for a long time waiting for my overheated body to settle itself. And while I sat I did some thinking - mostly of the good job, you variety. 'Cause if you can't be sarcastic with yourself, then who? The thought that perhaps this wasn't exactly the best way to return to my previous level of activity also crossed my mind. I eventually was able to make it back home unassisted, thanks to my superstar exercise partner who had run ahead to get me some cold water. Once safely ensconced in air conditioning, I collapsed (seriously) on my hard wood floor and there I stayed for the next 20 minutes. Mute.

Later - much later - when relating this story with self-deprecating humor to cousin Julie over the phone, I learned a fun tidbit that may have proved helpful before my little delve into heat stroke. Dallas temp: 106. That's degrees, folks. Fahrenheit.

Nice. Very, very nice.