Not watered down enough


I should have drunk more water. I really should have drunk more water.

The day started ok; I managed to eat breakfast while on a phone call to the US, and was almost brave enough to have a shave while on my second call. Bluetooth headsets are wonderful things. I had a healthy breakfast (porridge with fruit and Greek yoghurt stirred in) to compensate for my Enormous Potato Crisp Mistake last night and even managed to coordinate booking flights with my wife while we were thousands of miles away. Then I went to the office, and the rot set in.

Today I had lots of meetings, phone calls, and data to process; I was too busy to go downstairs and file a medical claim, let alone drink any water. I could almost feel my body transmogrify into dehydrated cheese.

Thus when I got home and started to get ready to go out running, I already felt dried out, unready for what I was going to put my body through. But I’d agreed with the others: meet at the track, at eight, come hell or high water. (The deluge came at 9:30 this evening, long after we’d finished, but probably made the air even thicker than normal at 8.) I headed out, upset that I seemed to smell strongly of salt and vinegar crisps.

Tonight the plan was to do 3 sets of ten minutes, with two minutes in between, at hard pace. That meant slightly more than 6 laps for me in ten minutes, after which a two minute rest was as nothing. On the second lap I’d noticed I was striking too much with my heel, so I switched to a mid foot strike and sustained that for about two laps of teeny tiny steps, while my heart rate and temperature rose and rose. At the start of my second lap on the second ten, my left shoelaces came undone, and I lost both my rhythm and the others as well as the twelve seconds I took to do it up and get back on track. I was broken thereafter, incapable of counting laps properly and taking my time to get round.

As for the third: the third was especially horrible, my legs dead, my brain befogged, and as the others began to drive away from me again, I packed it in at 7 and a half minutes. If I’d crashed properly into the woman who stepped onto the track without looking while we were on our second lap, I felt id have saved myself a lot of suffering.

I’d drunk over a litre of water in between those laps, and still I’m dried out. On the inside. My shorts, my shirt, my socks are soaked. At least I don’t smell of crisps any more.


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