Thus Friday, I started by drinking a bunch of Hammer Heed as well as normal juices and drinks. I did suck down two very large mugs of root beer at dinner, partially to choke down my aforementioned Navajo taco (the regular costs $8.99 at Frontier Pies–there I did my dutiful advertisement today), and also partially because root beer just tastes so darn good. Each mug was at least 32 ounces (yes, I’m aware that’s a large mug) or close to a liter.
The next morning, I arose and immediately weighed myself: 147, three pounds heavier than my current normal weight–understandable when you take into account my egregiously excessive meal the night before. I then went to the kitchen for a meal of waffles, with syrup, and a 16 oz bottle of Hammer Heed. Mmmm, nothing like waffles and a half-liter (give or take) of Heed. I then mixed another 16 oz bottle of Heed and filled a 12 oz bottle of water for the ride (as discussed in the previous entry). We then drove the hour and a half to Wilson, Wyo., where the ride would start, stopping once to visit the restroom in Victor, just across the Pass from Wilson. Do we have someone keeping tabs on my fluids? If I’m not mistaken, I’m up to about 32 oz ingested or about one liter, no?
At Wilson, we stopped where we always stop–the one and only Wilson gas station. While there, I used the men’s room and noticed that my urine was as clear or moreso than the water in the toilet. I’m sure you wanted to know that detail. Being that I’m an amateur and not a professional biologist or medical doctor, I took the clarity of my urine as an indication that my body was, for the most part, pretty hydrated. That fact was reaffirmed to me moments later when I started pedaling and again felt like I needed to use the restroom. But I shrugged it off with the idea that I would need the extra fluid and that the weight of my bladder would soon cease to bother me.
Despite my water-logged feeling, I still sucked water from my bottle believing that I would soon be really dried up. Sure enough, I hadn’t gone more than a mile and a half when I had to start spraying down my head and face and whiping the stinging sweat from my eyes.
Fast forward to the end of the ride. I didn’t see spots or start puking, but I did feel a little queasy at 8,300 feet. Nonetheless, I had a still-cold 3/4-full cold Gatorade waiting for me in the car. I felt no headache. I was a little thirsty, but not the point where I’d kill a camel for his humps or anything. I didn’t finish my Gatorade for at least 45 more minutes–halfway home.
When we arrived at home, I again weighed myself–same scale, same clothing conditions as that morning–and I came out at 141–three pounds below my normal weight. I then grabbed yet another Gatorade. What can I say? I like Gatorade. I’m suddenly tempted to hop in my car and go to the grocery store to buy more … Anyway, I didn’t immediately eat lunch because, well, I wasn’t hungry, and I had stuff I needed to do. Nonetheless, I got around to it eventually, and by the end of the day I weighed in again–same conditions–at about 145. That’s one pound more than my normal weight, if you haven’t been keeping track.
Okay, so how concerned do you think I was about a dehydration problem? Not at all. I didn’t feel any of the typical dehydration symptoms. On the contrary, I felt pretty darn good. I drove home without weaving in or out of the lane, but yes, I enjoyed the air conditioning a whole lot.
Okay, last point: this is my blog. If you want to disagree with me, go for it. But don’t yammer on and on and lecture me about a subject about which you only know limited details–my hydration or my health. If your ego absolutely needs it, go find someone else’s blog. And by the way, thanks for reading.