My daily liquid intake looks something like this:
Breakfast: one or two cups of black coffee depending on my mood; Lunch: Freshly squeezed orange juice; Dinner: some delicious tropical juice.
When I first arrived here way back in September I think we must have gone out to eat and I was still quite jet-lagged, so I ordered a Coke, since sweet tea was not an option. I needed the caffeine boost. Soda is generally not a part of my normal liquid intake at home. Oh, I drink plenty of coffee and sweet tea, but I’m just not all that crazy about soda. And when I’m at home I tend to drink more than enough water to satisfy my hydration needs. Well, these incredibly dear and sensitive people that I am living with must have noticed that I ordered a coke or two because Edir bought a HUGE case of Coca-Cola all for me. They don’t drink coke, so I’m the only one in the house expected to drink the entire case. Josefina checks the refrigerator when she gets home and proceeds to lovingly scold me for not eating enough of this and that and for not drinking enough orange juice and coke. So, at some point during the day I have to drink a can or two of coke. One can of coke usually quenches my thirst after the intense exercise of completing my daily e-mail correspondence, reading, writing, killing the daily quota of mosquitoes. So as you see, it’s quite easy for me to go an entire day without drinking a single drop of water, save the few drops that I swallow after brushing my teeth. Some days I remember and I fill up my CamelBak bottle and force myself to drink at least 64oz, but other days it simply slips my mind. Today was one of those days. Everything would have been fine had I not decided to brave the tempestuous wind and rain in order to get my daily dose of endorphins.
Giselly and I made the quick walk to the gym laughing most of the way there about some random jokes. We arrived and all of the dread that I had been feeling about the tough workout ahead disappeared and I suddenly felt motivated and ready for a good workout. The class started and it was hard, but I was feeling good and thinking about how rewarding it would be when it was over. About fifteen minutes into the two hour workout I started to feel really bad. I started to see stars and then my head felt like it was full of lead. My mouth got dry. My muscles tensed up. I had a hard time standing. I mumbled that I needed water trying to be heard over the loud music. I staggered out to the water fountain and lapped up the water like a thirsty dog. Then I made my way back into the workout room and found a corner to sit in. Giselly immediately noticed that I looked a little pale. Okay, not a little, yeah, I looked like Casper. Even my usually rosy-red lips were white as death. I knew that I was just dehydrated, as soon as I started feeling sick it dawned on me. But they didn’t know that. Faster than you can say Jiminy Cricket I was on a comfortable yoga mat and a bunch of beautiful brazilian women in workout unitards were hovering over me (yes, for some of you out there, this would be a dream come true) with a stethoscope, a blood pressure machine and a first aid kit. Then all of the sudden someone was elevating my legs and I kept hearing them exclaiming that I was quite white. I tried to explain the situation and raise my voice loud enough to be heard over the blaring speakers playing Lady Gaga. I really don’t like being the center of attention, especially in these types of situations. I kept saying, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just go workout. I’m just going to sit here and drink some water.” It took a while for them believe that I was truly okay, but eventually they went back to working out.
I’ve learned my lesson and will now be extra conscientious about my hydrating myself.