After a hectic day, I settled down to what I believed would be a pleasant dinner at my favorite Cuban restaurant. After enjoying fricase de pollo (chicken fricassee), I was immediately beset by a sharp pain on my right side, just below my ribcage. The pain continued to increase until I had to excuse myself and make my way outside into the parking lot for some fresh air, where I promptly vomited. Not a nice way to end a dinner. The problem was that even after seeing my fricase de pollo a second time, the pain wouldn't go away. I went home and suffered for another thirty minutes, sweating profusely and becoming pasty and pale, before the pain finally, mysteriously, and abruptly disappeared.
After some badgering from my family, I found myself at a local ER. I won't even begin to go into detail about how much of a treat this was. But take into account the X-Ray tech who wanted to tell me about what kind of tough guy he is and how he used to get into bar fights all - the - time, or the front desk receptionist, who showed up in my room later, introduced herself as the respiratory therapist, and had trouble hooking me up to an EKG machine because "we're facing each other and left and right are backwards," you begin to see what I was up against. Thankfully the doctor seemed like he had his act together, but I didn't see him until the very end; after the obligatory fluid collection, radiation exposure, and blood-letting.
After the doctor asked how I was feeling, to which I replied, "Other than basking in the afterglow of having recently vomited, I'm great," (actual words) he proceeded to tell me how all of my results were normal. Given the nature of the meal just before the onset of pain, and the area affected, he believed that I may be looking at the early stage of gall bladder disease. But what was more disturbing to him were my creatinine levels. They were elevated and this, he said, was an indicator of renal (kidney) failure or the body suffering from severe dehydration. I smiled slightly and had to stop him right there.
The last few weeks I have been pushing really hard. Maybe too hard. And to be quite honest I haven't been very smart about it. I have dialed back my running mileage, but I've turned up the heat on my weight lifting. And on the days that I run I have been pushing my pace over the shorter distances. Those things, in and of themselves, are really not the problem. The issue is that what I've been doing to fuel myself over those last few weeks has been more than negligent, it has been just plain stupid. The last several weeks my morning has started off with a quad venti mocha from Starbucks. I sip this designer blended coffee drink throughout my morning workouts. After changing into my work attire, I follow up with a nice cold recovery drink of Mountain Dew; often with a Mountain Dew chaser as breakfast. When I permit myself to get to lunch (which sometimes doesn't happen until more than several hours later), it is composed of some fast-food drive through crap with a caffeinated beverage to wash it down. Where is the H2O in all of this you might ask? Making fewer cameo appearances than Charlie Sheen on Two And A Half Men, that's where.
So you can already see the setup for the dramatic ending, right? Two weeks or more of excessively high caffeine consumption, zero water consumption, lack of any meaningful nutrition, and increased workout intensity. All culminating in a painful vomiting finale - complete with trip to the ER - with yours truly in the staring role. And while I'm thinking about it, I'm also quite positive you could add increased work-related stress in there as an active ingredient too, but that has been the status quo for so long now that it is in the same category as breathing. The point is, that I made some very, very, very poor choices and the end result was clearly predictable. Well, maybe to everyone but the guy who was making them. He has a bad habit of still believing he's indestructible.
So after catching an earful from the doctor, the nurse (who wrote WATER!!! in big letters across my discharge papers), my wife, and my best friend - who was also kind enough to remind me that I'm not 25 any longer (thanks, Dave, but you're still older and not nearly as sexy) - I was released back into the wild to consider the error of my ways. Which included an improved nutrition and hydration plan. Well, actually just a plan. And considering that there was really no plan before, anything can be considered "improved".
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| Rare wisdom from a fortune cookie. |
It was during the wait that I noticed the little piece of paper that has been taped to the top of my computer monitor at work for the last few years. During a particularly turbulent time for me both personally and professionally, I opened a fortune cookie at lunch and out popped this bit of pre-printed musing,
"A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner!"
At the time I considered it very apropos and promptly taped it to the top of my work monitor. It has been there ever since and I have referenced it often. Friday's referral to that quip is what inspired the title of this post. I read the paper, thought of the water fountain in the hallway, the bottles of water in the refrigerator at work, and chided myself by whispering the words of Coleridge, "Water, water everywhere but nary a drop to drink."
Today I also skipped my scheduled long run. I spent the day at work and still felt a little off. When the dreaded withdrawal headache showed signs of making a debut I quickly downed some Excedrin and within a few minutes (and a bottle of water later) I was feeling fine. So the plan is to stay on top of the hydration and get a much more solid nutrition plan in place than the emergency one that I instituted. Perhaps after several days I'll allow myself the pleasure of a designer coffee, but the sodas are out for good.
Monday is the start of the Runner's World Summer 2012 Run Streak. At least a mile a day from Memorial Day to July 4th. I plan on jumping back into my training then. After three days of proper hydration and decent eating I should be whole. Moreover I hope this time I've learned my lesson. Last year, around this time, I was stricken by kidney stones less than a week before I ran the KDF half marathon (perhaps another hydration issue) but, being the tough guy that I am, I ran it anyway. Going forward I know that I can't keep relying on tough guy stubbornness to carry me though. I guess Mr. Incredible really isn't 25 anymore.
"He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn."
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn."
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