I've spent the last two weekends in Manitou Beach at the Manitou Beach Busking Festival as a performer. A fabulous couple of weekends, a well-run event and a great chance to catch up with some old music friends and meet some new ones.
The first weekend was very wet, the tail end of the weeks of rain we've been seeing around these parts. I'm not being hyperbolic in saying we had rain pretty much every single day for about 4 weeks. Great for the lawn I'm trying to regrow, terrible for my tan.
Well, the rain finally broke this weekend, and Saturday and Sunday were clear and very hot. For the most part, I handled it well on Saturday. I found shade where I needed to, took long breaks and slammed the first Gatorade I've consumed in a few years. A solid B+ performance for taking care of myself on Saturday.
Sunday, on the other hand, I threw all caution to the wind.
Not that it was intentional. I certainly started the day off with good behaviour and made efforts to stay cool and hydrated. But that started to slip in the afternoon. I had picked up an extra busking hour at "il Pirato", the local guitar luthier, and ended up working a second hour when the next performer didn't show up. Happy to play and even happier to make a few more bucks. But I probably should have spent that time in the shade.
I had to leave that performance and head straight down to the beach, where I had my final performance in the direct sun - already a bit crispy from the 2 hours I'd just spent performing.
Suffice it to say, it didn't go great. I actually got a clip of video from a friend who was there, and I would really like to just bury it. You can hear the heat stroke in my performance.
I drove home straight from the performance, about 2 hours, and while I was tired, I didn't think I was in any extreme distress. I suppose I should have clued in to how I ate the peach on the drive. It was like a wolf going after a toddler's arm in Moose Jaw. Got home, unpacked - all seemed relatively normal. Tired, hungry, but not in any distress.
Nah, the distress came yesterday. It started the moment I woke up, when my whole body seized up, and I let out a cry that Rhonda could only compare to the screaming of the Nazgul. It didn't take me long to realize that things weren't good. I could barely open my eyes and could only slowly shuffle around the house. I tried to go through my morning routine, make coffee, and get lunch ready. But I soon concluded that I wasn't leaving the house. I probably shouldn't leave bed.
And so, this is where you find me, reader. I've recovered a bit. The cherry sunburn is turning to a lovely chocolate tan. I can stand upright for a few minutes and even made the trip to the bus this morning. I've still got a pretty sore neck and shoulder from playing so much, but I'm at least mobile again today.
I'm very glad for the break from the rain. But my God, the sun sure did a number on me!
