I am a creature of habit. Or at least, I strive to be. I like to unconsciously stumble to the bathroom and reach for my toothbrush with most of my brain still asleep. Have my feet lead me to my computer to turn it on while I boil water for coffee. Grab a mug from the cupboard on the right side of the sink, my hand knowing exactly how high to reach without a visual guide, much less conscious thought.
All of which meant that I was slightly afraid to wake up this morning. Because after three years, I’ve moved.
Not to a different, exciting city, not even to a different zip code. I schlepped my stuff [with the help of a few movers] a staggering ten blocks, two bikes in tow and more clothes than one girl should ever really own. After unpacking 80% of my things, pacing in an unfamiliar room, it finally hit me that things are changing – like really fast – and the anxiety crept up like that super commuter that hangs onto your wheel in all of his glorious neon. The one you can’t really seem to shake, making you be all like shit, is this really happening?
Unfortunately, [for me,] it is. My bar review course has started [before graduation!] which means 8-10 hours of studying a day, six days a week. Which wouldn’t be such a huge deal if I wasn’t so used to being so goddamn lazy, rolling out on 2 hour rides whenever I wasn’t expected to be in class. And trying to figure out how I was going to get those precious minutes and miles in, between studying and unpacking, I’ve been staring at my rollers with a mixture of relief and exasperation. Thank God I have those things so whenever I have time, I can jump on the bike and really savor indoor riding in the summertime!
It doesn’t help that I’m on a fourth floor apartment now, currently with no AC. Because it is fucking hot outside, people. A few days ago, I did a sweaty 2 hours in the saddle, inhaled lunch, went to meet my law school bestie for coffee, got nearly knocked out by an iced Americano [my first this year], and then almost passed out later. As in like fainted, not like spontaneously fell asleep as I’m prone to do. I forgot how much I suck at dealing with heat, even if I spent at least half my life in swelteringly humid Tokyo summers.
All of which led me to purchase a neon colored drink yesterday in an attempt to restore the electrolytes I was losing. Wait, don’t [mis]judge. I am not one of those people who insist on keeping protein powder in their library carrel because studying really flexes that big muscle in your head and obviously you need 100 grams of protein every other hour to keep that engine running. I just sweat. Like a lot. More than can be deemed normal or sexy; once temps hit 23C/73F+, I start not only feeling, but actively looking like turkey jerky.
So electrolyte supplements are sort of making a delayed entrance into my life. Mike’s a big fan of Nuun, and I love how you can carry it with you and only use it when you need it. I have two packs of Japan’s infamous Pocari Sweat and curiosity finally getting the better of me, I bought a sample pack of Vega Sport. But after my recent discovery that anything sugary quickly translates into acne [gross, I know], I’m a little hesitant to rely on any powders or shakes or what have you. Yeah, yeah, I know you can mix up a little ghetto fabulous electrolyte drink by mixing salt in a glass of water but I’m just not that into drinking straight up salt water on my rides [yet].
It did occur to me that the Master Cleanse formula of lemon juice, water, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper might do the trick as well. Might even make my rides a little more caliente. And then I realized I would probably end up on my hands and knees on the side of the road, gripping the grass or gravel with my hands while I tried to hack ground pepper out of the back of my throat. That is not caliente, even if I was in full Capo.
But like my incompetent fumbling with the hot water in the shower yesterday, which I’m confident will soon turn into an unconscious flick of the knob to get it just the way I like it, I’m sure I’ll figure it out. Hopefully harden up in the process, too. Because I have a date in a few weekends that’s going to involve a few good hours sweating. And passing out is probably the last thing I want to do.