This Wednesday, I decided to go out running in the evening after dinner.
Worst mistake ever.
Normally, I run in the morning in order to inspire a positive outlook on the remainder of the day. But I was pretty busy on Wednesday morning so I skipped my run. By 8pm, I was feeling restless. So I decided to go for a nice, relaxed evening jog.
I had eaten a relatively spicy chilli for dinner but that had been two hours ago and I figured (with my limited knowledge of the human digestive system) that I would be okay to run.
Firstly, I was ambushed by a mild stitch. But I blasted through this inconvenience and continued jogging. After a while, the stitch was starting to fade. I thought I was safe. How wrong I was.
It began with a slight burning in my throat. I coughed once or twice, swallowed hard. For a second, the burning faded and I continued to run. Then, the chilli-ridden meal that I had consumed earlier truly began to exact its revenge. It was like the fires from the pits of hell had risen to wreak havoc on my poor, unsuspecting oesophagus. It was digestive trauma like none I had ever known. I was coughing, spluttering, weeping, occasionally retching. I suspect that I started to resemble the chilli itself as my face took on an increasingly vivid shade of red. I had never looked so beautiful…
About three minutes later, a man approached me, looking concerned. I’m an asthmatic. As a result, I always carry my inhaler with me when I run. I think the man must have seen my inhaler and assumed I was in the midst of an extremely violent asthma attack. He asked if I needed someone to call an ambulance. I couldn’t believe that what was supposed to be a chilled jog had evolved into this. I turned to him and tried to say something along the lines of ‘Thank you, kind sir, for your help. It’s truly chivalrous of you but I think I’m beyond medical attention right now.’
Instead, I could only just manage to shake my head and croak the word ‘chilli’ at him, to which he extensively replied, ‘Aw babes, bad times,’ before walking away.
After about five minutes, the chilli attack died down and I was able to make my way home, thinking that I was not going to be cooking anything chilli related for a long time.
So – never, ever, I repeat EVER, eat anything vaguely spicy before going out running. That is the fundamental, mind-blowing moral of this tale.
The Chilli – A Runner’s Nemesis
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