EXAMS!!
"I hope my brain doesn't start melting."
I don't recall much of what happened next, but I do remember thinking that as I watched my temperature creep past 104F. When I regained my composure, I was out of the heated chamber and in a cold shower, my sweat-drenched clothes still on and the temperature probes still dangling from my body. Slumped over, my mind slowly started to function again as a sense of satisfaction settled in. Another experiment done, another data set complete...all in all, another good day at work.
I hope that by testing on myself I'll be able to take the necessary risks to make discoveries that can improve lives and push the envelope of current knowledge. Moreover, I hope that one day all of my self-testing and probing might help treat heat stroke victims, develop new cooling techniques, and save lives. After a quick cleanup and snack, I gather myself together, leave the exercise lab, and start running. Most of the time during the 3 hours of swimming, biking, and running I think about the Ironman. Just thinking about the race fills me with a sense of excitement, fear, and pride all mixed into one. I chose this race because I admire how its finishers are made, not born. I'm not a natural swim champ, a Lance Armstrong, or a Kenyan runner. I'm a guy who believes in the value of challenges and discipline, and that the easy road may not take you where you really want to go.
When I finish my workout and my body's pain finally turns into relaxation, I head back to the lab to work. I enter the hospital and walk by the myriad of patients lining the hallways leading to my office. Whenever I take this route I feel an unfulfilled sadness. I see crippling pain in each person's face, posture, and gaze as they watch people pass by. They sit in their wheelchairs trapped, unable to move and live freely. It feels unfair that I can workout when so many around me can barely move. Every day I want to help these individuals and alleviate their physical
I don't recall much of what happened next, but I do remember thinking that as I watched my temperature creep past 104F. When I regained my composure, I was out of the heated chamber and in a cold shower, my sweat-drenched clothes still on and the temperature probes still dangling from my body. Slumped over, my mind slowly started to function again as a sense of satisfaction settled in. Another experiment done, another data set complete...all in all, another good day at work.
I hope that by testing on myself I'll be able to take the necessary risks to make discoveries that can improve lives and push the envelope of current knowledge. Moreover, I hope that one day all of my self-testing and probing might help treat heat stroke victims, develop new cooling techniques, and save lives. After a quick cleanup and snack, I gather myself together, leave the exercise lab, and start running. Most of the time during the 3 hours of swimming, biking, and running I think about the Ironman. Just thinking about the race fills me with a sense of excitement, fear, and pride all mixed into one. I chose this race because I admire how its finishers are made, not born. I'm not a natural swim champ, a Lance Armstrong, or a Kenyan runner. I'm a guy who believes in the value of challenges and discipline, and that the easy road may not take you where you really want to go.
When I finish my workout and my body's pain finally turns into relaxation, I head back to the lab to work. I enter the hospital and walk by the myriad of patients lining the hallways leading to my office. Whenever I take this route I feel an unfulfilled sadness. I see crippling pain in each person's face, posture, and gaze as they watch people pass by. They sit in their wheelchairs trapped, unable to move and live freely. It feels unfair that I can workout when so many around me can barely move. Every day I want to help these individuals and alleviate their physical