We all know that summer is an easier time, especially for us northerners who cope with severe winters. During this most beautiful time of the year, how can I find the livin’ queasy?
One plausible explanation is that I indulged in some questionable potato salad since I love potatoes. But the truth is, I was exposed to a catastrophic summer bug during my quest to exercise and stay in shape.
Here’s what happened.
It was a sizzling 90-degree day when I suggested to Patrick that we take a walk. He had reservations, but I assured him we would take it easy and maintain a manageable pace. We drove to a deserted country road to avoid traffic and take in the peacefulness of nature.
It started out as idyllic as I anticipated, but it wasn’t long before we acknowledged some unwanted ‘guests,’ who turned our happy-go-lucky stroll into a full body workout.
Deer flies swarmed around us and dove in with precision, chomping on every exposed patch of flesh. They upped the game on hills where the breeze was non-existent. This forced us to sprint, along with flailing our arms and swatting at our legs without missing a step.
I realized that mouth breathing during aerobic exercise was risky when I inhaled a Kamikaze fly pilot ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. Disclaimer: No deer fly was injured because when I hacked out the suicide bomber, he flew away unscathed.
At the summit of the hills, we enjoyed a sweltering blast of ozone. This gave us enough respite to glimpse the pastoral view, listen to a torrent of crow caws, and take in the aroma of manure wafting up from a nearby farm.
Our reprieve was short-lived as I heard a buzzing reminiscent of Bugs Bunny’s famous battle cry, “I guess you know this means war.” When fresh troops arrived we took off like Kenyans toward the finish line. Maybe it was oxygen deprivation, but I was positive they followed us flying in formation.
We arrived back at the car, wheezing, delirious, and nauseated. We cranked up the air conditioner, fending off full-blown heat stroke.
Patrick was gracious about the whole thing, without so much as a gasp of complaint during our adventure. I’ll let you know after he revives if he sputters an ‘I told you so,’ but I’m truly hoping he won’t remember much.
How do you survive that peaceful, queasy feeling on hot, carefree, summer days?