The Forty-five Thousandth Reason I'm Glad to be Married to an EMT

I'm still sweating buckets, and it's been over an hour now.

Dave had come off a busy shift and had taken me to Morning Glory for a mocha and famous oatmeal pancakes, before catching a few winks. I loaded up the kids on their bikes and hit the sunny Bear Creek trail. Yes, it was almost noon. Yes, it was a million degrees. But we had the whole trail to ourselves!

Three miles in, though, I started to get a little hot. Okay, really hot. Like, burning up. Baked.

Now, I can usually seriously tolerate heat. I mean, it can be ninety degrees in the kitchen, and I can be whipping up a sour cream chocolate cake, no problem. Once, I stayed in a day spa sauna so long, the front desk girl came in to check on me. Plus, I put Texas Pete and pepperoncinis on everything. Except sour cream chocolate cake.

Anyway, I was running and roasting, and by the time I got home, my whole cooling system had somehow blown. I was red and panting and ready to hurl. Or die. Ponds of perspiration were forming in places I never knew could sweat. Even my gums were steaming.

Dave was up. He took one look at me before laying me down with my feet up and a package of frozen peas behind my neck.

He took my pulse and fed me gallons of water, and my kids covered me with organic otter pops. And ponds of perspiration were forming in places I never knew sweat.

Now that I'm finally cooling off, I completely understand why the trail was deserted. Everyone around here is way smarter than me.

Including the people who buy regular Otter Pops. They're so much better than these fruit juice things.