On the third day of the race, I discover salt. Because of intense perspiration, to stay properly hydrated in such extreme conditions requires supplementing the drinking of water with the intake of electrolytes, namely salt. My mistake on the first two days was that I tried to drink in this extra salt through drink mixes such as Gatorade. The drink mix has flavors and sugars to mask the taste of the salt, but after one or two bottles, I became so disgusted by the taste that I stopped drinking it. That’s when dehydration reared its ugly head.
I thought that salt tablets were for emergency use only. Then I discover that the pros routinely take 3 to 4 salt tablets an hour! I rethink my strategy. I get some salt tablets from a competitor and spend the entire third stage trying to find the balance between how much water to drink and how much salt to take. There are no rules, but as I discovered in the Sand Marathon, wandering too far off the edge in either direction can lead to disaster.
Our morning swim.
Deep in the swamps.
During the course of the third day, which starts with a swim of 200 meters and was full of swamp crossings, I discover how to read my internal thermostat for salt. At the first hint of nausea, I take a salt tablet. At the first sign of a bitter taste in my mouth, I drink a mouthful of water. There you have it. I am trekking through the jungle balancing myself every few minutes between nausea and bitterness. Staying hydrated in the jungle is a full time job.
As I plow through the dense jungle today, I notice that my footing has become much more efficient. I can climb over fallen trees and keep my hands in the air. I’ve learned the hard way that the only part of me that should contact the jungle is the soles of my shoes. Everything else, ankles, knees, arms and especially hands, that comes into contact with the jungle gets jabbed, scraped, bit, stung or ripped. The jungle is not a tactile-friendly environment. Nothing out here is out to tickle me.
Earlier in the day, Robert told us: “Ve are lozing too many of you, so ve vill shorten the stage by 3.14 kilometers.” I have no clue how Robert manages to so exactly measure 3.14 kilometers in the jungle with all the hills, mud, twist and turns. But measure it he does. This might be God’s most primitive jungle, but its still no challenge for German engineering. I am glad the course is a bit shorter today. I finish it in good form and even manage to smile at the end.
The race is starting to take its toll. As injuries, blisters and fatigue start to accumulate, I set up my hammock in the midst of the Brazilian contingent. I enjoy hearing the musical sound of their Portugese banter. Even when they are in pain, the Brazilians sound happy.
That evening I barter my remaining 480 grams of powdered drink mix for 50 grams of salt tablets. That’s roughly the amount of salt in a restaurant salt shaker, which is what I will consume during the remainder of the week. It’s a terrible trade on the open market, but in the jungle, salt is worth any price.
Here I am cooling off at the end of day 3. The electrolyte situation is now under control.
