I keep telling myself that when I perspire, it's my body expunging toxins through my skin. I have to tell myself to keep my spirits up, because when my skin is covered with beads of sweat and I'm dripping over the floor, my self-esteem does get a bit wobbly. And certainly, I seem to have filled myself up with toxins since Friday night, and they were doing their best to come out.
I sweated on the exercise bike. I sweated on the treadmill. I made alarming dry heaving noises as I rowed 2,000 virtual metres on the ergometer. I sweated some more on the step machine.
All that would be natural, if a little dampening. The problem is, that wasn't where it stopped.
I finished exercising. I stretched, like every good boy should. I had a shower. I washed behind my ears, and everything. I got dressed and headed out for dinner.
And then I started sweating again.
I'm not sure if my body is run my some genius of homeostasis, that concludes that if I spend five minutes without pumping my body weight in water through my pores, then something is wrong. I'm not sure, but I'm heading towards believing that.
So I arrived at the restaurant (inappropriately named Sahara, because although I was hot and bothered, I certainly wasn't arid), wet through, and feeling somewhat dehydrated by it all.
Now if this was a once-off, I'd just be blighting your life with an account of my saturated existence. But every single time I exercise, I'm hit with this timelapse sweating. Like trying to account for cost overrruns, even if you figure an additional million dollars / another ten minutes wait before you get dressed, bam, it'll catch you again. Even in air conditioned buildings: isn't that just terribly old-fashioned of my circulatory and lymphatic system?
2 comments:
nope, simple. You are English, designed for croquet and cricket while sipping Pimms like a normal person. The gym is not our natural enironment!
El
Priceless post! Your perspicacious perceptions on perspiration precipitate my preset precepts on personal purificationary practices.
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