Sweaty Beast

Sooo....on my journey from chubby-bubby to athlete I have learned a little something. So has everyone who runs with me.

I sweat.

Wickedly.

I'm not talking a little feminine perspiration. I'm talking DRENCHED. I think Under Armour, REI and Nike should hire me to test the wicking capability of their clothes.

I sweat so much you can smell the sodium. No joke. After we are done running, I have streaks of white salt down my face.

When we did the Heart Run with our team a few weeks ago, San Diego and Perky joked that I could serve as the team's salt lick for sodium replenishment.

I sweat so much I have to take additional salt in while I exercise or my blood pressure drops too low from the electrolyte imbalance.

I sweat so much that our head coach, Drill Sergeant, felt the need to tell me, "You sweat. A lot." This was hurtful because (1) it was in front of the group, (2) her normally adorable face was squinched up as if she was looking at a smelly pile of dog poo, and (3) it is true.

Last week, as I was ending my Nirvana run back at the house, Nick and the kids pulled up on their bicycles. Big C looked at me, very confused and asked, "Did you just take a shower?"

It was sweat.

I am a sweaty super freak.