On the Run: Sweat therapy
I’ve got the perfect cure for a hangover. It doesn’t include Tabasco and tomato juice, or handfuls of aspirin. It’s even better than a long soak in a hot bath.Whenever I wake up with a throbbing headache, bloodshot eyes and a mouth that tastes like I ate cat litter the previous night, I force myself to go on a run. “Force” is the operative word.Believe me, it’s not easy to stumble out of bed and change into some running clothes when you have a bad case of the José Cuervo flu. It usually takes me about five minutes just to tie my shoes. (Preceded by the five minutes it takes to find a clean pair of socks.)After I take off, the first half-mile or so is always a struggle. I almost hurled in someone’s bushes last week on the morning after a Fourth of July bender. I usually hack and spit, trying to get the taste of the booze out of my mouth. The legs are heavy, the joints always tight.But once the sweat starts coming out of my pores, it’s like being dipped in magic waters. The dry heaves disappear, the headache starts to wear off and the pool balls in the eye sockets start to lighten up.As to how healthy this is, I’m not sure. I’m guessing it’s not ideal to go on a three-mile run with nothing in your stomach but beer and stale pretzels.But it works. When I arrive back at my door, dripping in sweat, heart racing, I’m a new person. I’m the person I was before those first couple of beers and that round of shots.Of course, I could stop drinking. Yeah, right.I’d rather have fun – and then run.
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