What it’s like to be the World’s Sweatiest Human

What I'm like, an hour after a run. No joke. Well, sort of a joke.

What I’m like, an hour after a run. No joke. Well, sort of a joke.

As I’m writing this, the high temperature here in the Southern Plains hit 97 degrees. Yeah, while most of you are talking about fall foliage and pumpkin spice, summer still has a firm grip on my environs.

And that brings me to the subject here. I think I might be the World’s Sweatiest Human. Not really kidding about that, either. When the outside temps hit 70 or more, it doesn’t take much more than a casual stroll to get my sweat glands working.

(Now I know there are people with medical conditions of various sorts who are actually sweatier than me, but hey, just go with it.)

I’m a pretty active person, and most of my activity takes me outside. So this, combined with the fact that it’s been anywhere from very warm to hellishly hot/humid over the past four to five months, has given me plenty of time and experience to contemplate the woes of being the World’s Sweatiest Human (WSH for short). And because I exist, in some form or another, to entertain you, I feel compelled (if not outright mandated) to overshare this experience. So here we go, with some observations of being the WSH:

Cold water, please: I can count the number of hot showers I’ve taken this summer on one hand. Work schedules mean that I train before my shift starts, and that means cleaning up for the job is an exercise not only in hygiene, but also cooling off. Cold showers are mandatory, even if they’re uncomfortable. I probably won’t regularly take hot (or even warm) showers for another month.

Longest hour ever:  The process of cooling down after a summer run usually takes 50 minutes. I’m not joking. Almost an hour before I stop sweating. And this creates logistical challenges…

Dress code:  It’s not unusual for me to wear a raggedy T-shirt to work, using the commute time to cool down and then change out of that sweat-soaked shirt into work attire. Fun, huh?

Can I get an amen?  It also means that when I first get to the office, I’m  fanning myself like grandma during the old-time gospel hour at Country Road Baptist Church. Lawd, help me.

Drip factor = extreme: After any given outdoor workout, I can wring the sweat from my clothes like I’d just gotten caught in a downpour. Puddles ensue. It’s kinda gross.

Constant spin cycle: During the course of the week, I generate more laundry than three normal people combined. Also kinda gross.

Me > tech fabrics:  Moisture-wicking fabrics have no power over me. They just get very wet and stinky instead of merely stinky.

Hot and cold: This is a problem during alpine hikes, where profuse sweat, cold temps and windy conditions leave me vulnerable to hypothermia. Yes, I layer. No, it doesn’t help that much on the uphill. Apparently, I am immune to layering.

I could go on, but you get the point. I suppose I could run shirtless, thus cutting my laundry volume in half, but I’m not sure anyone wants to see that.

But such is life for the World’s Sweatiest Human. I’m not about to stop, and I’m glad that my body works the it’s supposed to and that I manage to stay hydrated. Just know that if you want to give me a hug, a chest bump or even a high-five after a workout, you’re gonna up your daily “ewww” factor a couple of notches.

You’ve been warned.

Bob Doucette

4 thoughts on “What it’s like to be the World’s Sweatiest Human

  1. I enjoyed reading this. I just wanted to say that you are not the sweatiest guy I grappled at jiu-jitsu class. The one we called “the Buick” was. Yes, all the sweaty guys were gross grappling, but the fun of jiu-jitsu outweighs the gross factor. Thanks for the smile and memories.

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