Sunday, August 8, 2010

6.7

Today, I was supplying at a church which was exactly 6 miles from my home.  Score!  The race distance is exactly 6 miles.  Besides, I was scheduled for a long run today, and my body needed something to get some of the mental poison out of my system.   Essentially, being a hospital chaplain means that you sometimes have weeks of complete sh*t.  The past ten days have been like that.  It seems like the local paper is living outside my ED doors this week, and while it appeals to my control freak side to be "in the know", it gets tiresome to be dealing with every freakin' major headline.  I spent the week stepping over gang members to get to my office door and making clay handprints that were too tiny.  I had to run away from that... literally.

You'd run too, if you had this sort of a week.


What with one "shortcut" and another, I accidentally tacked on an extra .7 miles to my six mile run, but I left the church at 10:30 and arrived home at 11:42.  And I had the unique experience of picking up some rations at 7-11.  I can't remember the last time I was in a 7-11, though it used to be a regular treat for Slurpees after soccer practice when I was little.


There, I met my enemy.  Not my nemesis, because that would be like Gu which makes me want to yak.  No, this stuff is just disgusting and gross and makes me queasy and angry.  It's G3- which came in the small jar.  G2 came in a big jar which was too big to carry.  G3 came in the small jar.  It's horrible!  Sweet, thick, syrupy, coats my tummy like cough syrup and sits there with the delicate weight of lead in my gut.


I do drink regular Gatorade, and love the lemon-lime and the red flavors.  But I also drink them at half-strength.


I brushed my teeth three times after getting home, and my tummy has been easily upset all afternoon- whole foods and veggies seem ok, but any amount of sugar is pushing me way over the edge.  I had supper with my parents and sister- the special recipe zucchini parm dish was great, as was the nice bread.  But right after I ate my ice cream:  the Gatorade feeling returning.  I virtually ran out of my parents' house, moaned all the way home, and only stayed up to share with you, my dear readers, my agony.



G3, I hate you deeply, with a deep loathing that goes far beyond my ambivalence about Gu.  G3, you are an evil, evil drink.  I hope you can learn to live with yourself.


gatorade.jpg



PS- in exciting news, my fundraising (which is not reflected in my online total just yet) is now up to $2,075!!! Just $775 to go!!  

1 comment:

Ann Broomell said...

I know that feeling of having the headlines before you, and I do feel a bit out of the loop now that I'm not doing overnights at the hospital. I always wonder what happened to the people I was with and their families.