Ever
since we became emotionally committed a year ago to our walking pilgrimage to
Santiago in Spain, we were determined that we would do it “in true pilgrim
fashion.” That meant that Joan & I would try to eschew, as much as is
possible in today’s modern, high-tech world, all the various conveniences & accelerators with which we customarily burden ourselves, in the delusion of
“saving time” or “making life easier.” Stuff like cell-phones, I-pads &
pods, fancy digital watches, GPS systems and other gear. And key to our “true
pilgrim fashion” intent was that we would start our journey to Santiago by
walking out of our front door, just like they used to start pilgrimages in the
Middle Ages.
So at 8 AM on Monday, September 1st
we did just that. We slung on our backpacks, stepped outside into a muggy
morning, closed & locked the door and headed down our long driveway through
the fields towards Downing Road. Our
intention was to walk 11 miles to the Amtrak train station in Wells – a walk we
had done only five days before with joy and ease. Our wonderful
neighbors, Bruce & Beth Preston, Lynne & Rob Tillotson and Bruce Read, were
all waiting to greet us at the end of the drive, loaded with hugs, handshakes, some
tears and lots of best wishes. After the first thousand feet of walking our
pilgrimage, we were feeling good! I laughingly said to them, “only 499.8 miles to go!”
But
I didn’t listen to the universe and I didn’t stay tuned into the warning signals
my body was giving me as we walked along. The day was turning dangerously hot
and humid, reaching 90 degrees and 98% humidity by mid-morning. Compounding
this was the fact that my fully - loaded pack weighed in at 17 pounds, about
15% more than I was used to carrying. So around 3 miles out, I started to feel
strangely tired and weak-legged. That wasn’t normal at all, for I had walked
over 300 miles during the past six months in preparation for our Camino. My
right ankle hurt more than usual but I put that off to the extra weight. I
was sweating copiously but ignored it.
But
that was not the bad error in judgment I made; no, I really screwed up
in not drinking enough water on a very hot & humid day, a day that at my
age I probably shouldn’t have been walking 11 miles at all. I was carrying a 16
oz bottle of Poland Spring water and only took small sips, ‘cause I didn’t want
to use it all before we got to our planned lunch break at 7 miles. I was stubbornly
determined to start out “in true pilgrim style” when any damned fool would have
said, “Too hot! - let’s be smart & take
a taxi to Wells.” And worst of all, I didn’t listen to the dehydration signals
my body was giving me- being “weak” and sweating like a pig.
So,
after stopping three times for a rest (all in a half mile) at around the 6 mile point,
we pulled over at the Wells Branch Grange building. I took off my backpack, sat
down on a well cistern and passed out cold. Fainted dead away; almost no pulse,
dangerously low blood pressure, cold sweat pouring off my body – the whole enchilada
of heat dehydration. Poor Joan was scared to death but her nurse background
quickly kicked in and she took control, called 911 and within a few minutes the
Wells police, fire department and EMT crews were there, hustled me into an EMT
stretcher and off we went to the Emergency Room at the Southern Maine Medical
Center in Biddeford. I wasn’t going to be going to Spain that day and there was
a real danger that my severe dehydration would kill our plans of our pilgrimage dream.
The ER crew at SMMC was great and after fluid drips,
blood tests, x-rays and much more, my wonderful ER doctor, Dr. Jason Aines, finally
discharged me with a strong but loving admonition to listen more closely to my
body in the future, That and drink lots of water before, during and
after a long walk. So we have postponed our Camino departure for a week to give
my body (and Joan’s battered spirit) a chance to rebuild strength. I’ve learned
a lot about the dangers of dehydration, especially when one gets older. Back in
the ‘80’s when I was doing a lot of competitive bicycle racing and 100 mile
rides, I never worried much about dehydration. Now I do. This
scared me a lot!
Poor
Joan! She’s really been beating herself up since we got home for not reading my
signs better, with her nursing background and own experience with heat. On our
training walks in the White Mts. and the trails in Maine, it’s been Joan who
has suffered from heat & humidity, not me. She knows the signs in herself.
And truth be told, she has been insistently telling me to drink more water and
I’ve stubbornly resisted, listening to my own false scripts about not drinking
too much. No more! Call me “Aquaman”!
Here’s
a snapshot of what my new “dehydration danger” protocol will be before I start
a long walk:
- · Watch the weather– excessively hot or humid – don’t do it.
- Pre-hydrate – drink 16 oz of water with breakfast
- Listen to my body –weak legs means weak blood circulation (stage 1 dehydration).
- Sweating more than usual is a really bad signal, too.
- · Drink 16 oz of water every mile. No excuses!
- · Add electrolytes – Gatorade, salt tablets, Zero Water are OK.
- · Listen to my intuition. Share this with Joan & have an honest conversation.
I have figured out that I can be in three
states of mind in a long walk or when deciding whether to do any activity with potentially
dangerous consequences:
a)
Everything
is in harmony in my world.
I feel great about what’s ahead, physically ready and mentally sharp. I may have
a few aches & pains but no dehydration “warning” signals are flashing. All
signs from my universe are still good. This is my “Code Green” situation.
b)
Something
doesn’t feel quite right here.
Maybe I haven’t been sleeping well or someone close to me is troubled. Am I getting
dehydration or other body warning signals? Does life feels out of synch a
little but I can’t put that uneasiness in focus? Do I have bad feelings or uncertainly
about what I’m doing? These are my “Code Yellow” signals and scream out:
“Caution!”
c)
No
way, dummy! This just feels like a bad idea all around. I’m
getting my dehydration signals. Admit it, forget about what someone else might
think or do and put it away for another day. This is “Code Red”.
Red
and Green are easy to deal with. But you can’t stay in a Code Yellow quandary
and there are only two paths out: either I weigh the risks & make a
decision to go to Green or embrace the wisdom of “No” and go Red. The trick to
learn is to be consciously aware of what “color” I’m in; then to act with
courage on what that awareness tells me.
