Late Sunday night, I decided to treat myself to a glass of whiskey. I dropped three ice cubes into a tumbler and poured myself two fingers of Jameson. Then I sat down in front of my computer, pulled up an online comic and settled in for a relaxing evening.
After a few sips I was fully immersed in the comic's plot line. Thor, Captain America, the Silver Surfer and a dozen more of Earth's migthtiest superheroes had been brainwashed and turned against their fellow teammates. I was beginning to question the ultimate fate of the Marvel universe when an ice cube slid up against my lip. My glass was empty. I decided to pour myself another.
Three whiskeys later the comic book's storyline had grown more convoluted. Where did Dr. Strange come from and why was Professor X so important? I crunched on an ice cube and thought to myself, I am officially loaded. I fell asleep watching my nightstand shudder back and forth.
The next morning I felt sluggish and struggled to focus. I was hungover. Luckily, I had a solution. I decided to go to the gym. I would sweat out my hangover, purge the poison from my system. I ran three miles and afterward I felt … horrible.
I went into work feeling worse than when I woke up. I was nauseous and had a pulsing headache. I told a friend about my previous night, my ingenious solution and my confusion as to why my exercise fix hadn't worked. He pointed out that getting drunk leaves you dehydrated and that my workout hadn't cleansed my system but exacerbated my problem.
That's how I learned that decadence and personal fitness are a horrible combination. Just like business and pleasure you should never mix hangovers with exercise.
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