Running. In Delirium.

forest-mist-path-winter

37° F.
Mianus River Park.
I park the car.
I queue up my music.
I cross the bridge to the entrance.

Light rain is falling.
Mist is floating – cobwebs in trees.
Steam is rising from the earth.

I start my climb.
Rain. Rocks. Roots. Ruts.
Wet leaves.
Muddy track.
Treacherous.
I short-step my run on the way up.

I’m 1/2 mile in.
Stomach isn’t right.  I’m woozy.
I slow my pace.
I’m lightheaded.
Lift your head man. Look straight ahead. Get a grip.

Wet Rocks. Roots. Ruts. All in a blender.
I blink once. Twice. Three times.
The windshield doesn’t clear.
I shake my head.
Water swirling down a drain.
Vertigo.

I stop.
I drop my hands to my knees.
I’m breathing heavily. Heavily? No heaving.
The radiator is overheating.
I’m dressed for 15° F and it’s 3x that.
You can live 3 minutes without air. 
I yank my Tuk off.
I stuff my gloves in my pocket.
I rip my jacket zipper down.
I let the cool air rush in.
I gulp air.

I walk off the path and lean heavily into a young, deciduous tree.
It sways. I close my eyes.
You can live 3 days without water.
I reach for my water bottle.
Right pocket. Then left.
I rushed out of the house without drinking water.
I rushed out of the house without a water bottle.
Rushing where? For what?

I hear the River down below.
There’s no path.
Rambo cuts his own path as the crow flies, straight down the hill.
Branches slapping my face.
I’m sliding down the hillside.
I lick my lips. Dry and chapped.
Mouth is parched.
Oasis dead ahead.

I reach the water’s edge.
I drop to the ground.
Gulping ice water.
I submerge my head.
1 count. 2 count. 3 count. 4 count. 5 count.
I pull up and shake like a big cat.

I’m alive.

A lot of older people are borderline dehydrated.
They have less body water just from the natural effects of aging…


F*&king Middle Age.

Time Check: Who cares.

Nap time.



Comments

  1. Sounds more like the beginning of a stomach bug than a testament to one’s age..Better this morning?

    Like

  2. i’m happy you are okay and that you were visited in your fever dream by rambo. take care, david.

    Like

  3. Reblogged this on chronicles.

    Like

  4. Loved this. I learned a lot. I plan to read this again and again. Thanks, David.

    Like

  5. Ya never just “go for a run,” do ya pal? So glad you lived to tell the tale. I think I’d take today off just to be safe. 🙂

    Like

  6. At 37°, I’m not surprised you rushed out of the house–to get the run over with and get back to your warm, dry bed. And I’m impressed that even at 15°, you are prepared. I hope you wear a Road ID when running in the woods, you know, just in case.

    Like

  7. OMG! I think I would have just stayed in bed. 🙂

    Like

  8. “Rambo cuts his own path as the crow flies, straight down the hill.
    Branches slapping my face.” – Lol!! There must be something about middle age that also throws one into an immediate panic…since Rambo didn’t waste any time at all from the moment of discovery that water had been forgotten. Glad you’re okay, David, but you’re sooooo funny as you describe everything. And, yes, once again, I know I’m probably the only one laughing. Can’t help it, sorry.

    Like

  9. Middle age? Too funny.

    Like

  10. Happy you survived! Middle age is a strange condition…can be blamed for many things and lasts forever!

    Like

  11. Oh dear – that was quite a run.
    Hope you felt better ofter the nap.

    Like

  12. I hope you are fine and doing well David. Although I’m a BIG fan of your attitude (Time Check: Who cares) but I request you to Take Care. 🙂

    Like

  13. I was worried at first, but the last bit made me laugh out lout. “Time check. Who cares?” My guess is that you won’t forget the bottle again.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: