I was maintaining a decent pace, and after my first hill jog, I started to feel… uneasy. I’ve been walking for a while now, and the three mile trek I was on usually takes me less than forty minutes.
Yesterday was different.
I was sweating more than normal, but I brought a bottle of water to keep cool. About a mile and a half in, though, my stomach started to hurt. A lot. I felt like I was going to simultaneously barf and break into the poops at the same time.
Doubled over by the curb, I left the day’s meals in the street. I should have felt better afterward, but my stomach felt worse. The “other pressing issue” was giving me grief, but I continued walking. I was halfway home, and convinced myself I could make it. I was wrong.
The sweat was pouring off me now, and I was about to deal with an, um, “intestinal emergency.” Less than a mile from home, I stopped walking and called Mrs. Earp.
“You need to come get me. Like right now. I’m really sick.”
Mrs. Earp came in a flash. I hopped into the Family Truckster, and immediately felt dizzy. A minute or two later we were home and I stumbled into the bathroom where I had a very unpleasant sit down. I had what the kids would call explosive diarrhea, and it kept me in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes.
Sweat was still pouring off me, I felt really dizzy, and was exhausted. Since I was just retrained in first aid, I chalked it up to heat exhaustion. I dragged myself to the shower, sat in the cold water for what seemed like forever, and drank more water. This was at 4pm. I finally felt better… at 10pm.
I’d like to think I am in okay shape. I drink a lot in work – no, no alcohol – and I have never gotten dehydrated before. It is not a pleasant experience. My desire to lose some more weight, the scant amount of carbs, and the heat did me in. I think I’ll take a few days off before trying again.