BURNED

Yesterday I attempted to run around the lake on whose shore the little town Chascomus of 40,000 people, 120 km outside of Buenos Aires, which we have inhabited for the last 4 days, is located.  When we first got into the town and I thought about running the lake, it looked maybe 10 miles around, and perhaps doing 2 laps would make for a nice long run.  Upon studying a conveniently posted map of the town, turned out the road around the lake is around 28-29km, probably just about 18 miles. 

Not to be deterred, I thought, with Galen’s encouragement, that it would be badass to still do 2 laps for a whopping 36 miler of a run.  The scenery is pretty and I can always decide to quit after lap 1 if I’m not feeling up for it.  So yesterday morning I lazily rolled out of bed around 9:30, took another lazy half an hour to get ready and wrote a note for Galen to buy more water in case I decide to do lap 2 and need to refuel.  I looked for the sunscreen and couldn’t find it.  I didn’t want to wake Galen up and figured if I made it in 3 hours or less as I hoped and stay in shade when I can, it should be OK.

One thing that needs to be mentioned is that I attempted to do a fast one hour run a couple of days earlier.  The temperature was around 95, though I figured that for a run this short, I should be fine just pre-hydrating and not bringing water.  That didn’t work so well at all.  I started dying after about the first 20-25 minutes, I presumed from being hot and not having water, and hobbled on my way back.

So I figured that if I bring water with me this time, all my problems will be solved.

Well, even at 10 a.m., it was already scorching.  I set a pace that felt good – probably something in the 9:30 range – drank water generously, and made zigzags for the tiniest islands of shade.  This didn’t prevent me from continuing to get hot.  So I started taking cool down breaks under trees, and sprayed a small bit of water over my head (which felt like it was sucking in all of the sun’s heat from the air).  Finally, when my head was feeling hot enough to fry eggs over it, I decided it was time for drastic measures.

I made my way down to the lake and dunked my head in.  Not literally – unfortunately.  That would have been difficult to do without getting totally wet including my shoes.  Instead I scooped up the murky water and threw it all over my head, neck, and back. 

That felt good!  Yeah, I can do this!

Next I found myself taking a cooling break under a shaded entrance to a campground, right at about 16 km, or halfway point.  I sucked water greedily from my CamelBak, reveling in the shade.  Without warning, the sound coming from my CamelBak changed from a soft steady sucking sound to a sputtering, like a faulty engine, loud noise. 

AWW SHIT.

Out of water right at the halfway point, a little over an hour through.  Hmm… what are my options?  I clearly can’t keep running.  That generates too much heat and will dehydrate me too quick. I can always stick my thumb out and get a ride – this is a well-traveled road, there are lots of campgrounds and recreational areas.  But that would be lame.  The only other option, seemed like, was to walk most of the way back.  Walking doesn’t use much water as it’s a fairly low energy activity.  And I can go and dunk myself in the lake to keep cool. 

And that’s what I did, with a little bit of light jogging in between – as long as I felt like I wasn’t getting too hot.  And making my way down to the lake to dump water on myself.  Sometimes going under bridges, like a hobo, because that was the only spot accessible.  That’s because some of the lake’s shores are swamps, so under a bridge would be the only place with access to an even more murky water.

It was actually a pretty way to experience the lake.  Walking through and at that point not trying to set the world record, I had time to observer a great variety of birds, and a group of 97 horses (yes, I counted) grazing at a nearby range.

There was only one little problem with this solution.  I was walking under the noon sun with virtually zero shade and no sunscreen.  In fact, the sun was so vertically over me that I couldn’t even find my own shadow.  I pulled down my shorts to look like an LA gangbanger, in hopes of covering up some of the legs.  I attempted to pull my shirt up over my neck and make my hair as puffy as possible.  To no avail.

I look like a lobster.  A delicious, cooked lobster.

This may be the most burned I’ve ever been in my life!  Normally I don’t start feeling the burn until a day or so later, but I was feeling it a few hours later.  My calves look and hurt the worst, though there is a definitive burn line all around my ankle.  Arms are pretty bad, even the hands.  Face is also bright red, as is the back of the neck.  And taking a shower today, washing my head, I painfully verified that even the top of my head is burned.  Man, all that hair up there for nothing!!!

And I am now the Zombie-SwampBeast, according to Galen, thanks to, well, being in swamps, and, after the fact, putting so much sun-screen all over me, that I looked white, like a Zombie.  Talk about "closing the barn door after the cows got out."

I draw several conclusions from this experience.

1. 1)      Run in cooler parts of the day.  I’m typically in the mode of running when it’s comfortable/convenient for me, but there are times when runs need to be planned around the sun’s schedule.
2. 2)      Look harder for sunscreen, even if that means waking up your roommate!
3. 3)      Get a white/reflexive brimmed hat.  I already came to that conclusion after the Cactus-to-Clouds hike with Sarah, but haven’t followed through.  It seems that just like with cold where most of the heat escapes through the head, when it’s hot, most of the heat accumulates in the head.  So perhaps reflecting it would help, not to mention the shade.
4. 4)      Bring more water.  It appears that in the hottest weather I need about a liter for every 5 miles, or 2L for 1.5 hours.  So I need to see if CamelBak makes packs that can pack a gallon (and still not be too bulky).