I love hot sauce. I love running. Hot sauce + running = Pain!
A few weeks back as we were leaving the hall after Navin and Daivati's wedding, I stopped at a vendor and impulse bought some Guyanese hot sauce. It had the magic words, 'Scotch Bonet' on the lable...I was sure it would be flavourful. Sally shook her head with a smile and a shrug...she knew better than to talk me out of it.
We 'Jamaican born's' know a thing or two about hot sauce. Scotch Bonet is our specialty. There's even a Jerk place in Jamaica called Scotchies! In the past I've made my own hot sauce by grinding up some Scotch Bonet's with vinegar and oil. Not too flavourful I confess, but packed the heat! I love my hot sauce!
As I've gotten older, become 'Seasoned' as my friend, Dan notes about aging, I've become less tolerant of hot sauce. Say it ain't so! Alas it's true. My taste buds love a little hot sauce with just about everything...drives Sally crazy! My stomach however not so much. And my lower digestive tract is positively 'anti hot sauce'. And that's where hot sauce meets running. And the hot sauce is winning!
So I tried a little...OK a lot...of this hot sauce from hell on some rice and chicken. I should have exercised caution immediately. While it was flavourful, there was a nasty little bite of heat that I ignored. How bad could it be? The next morning on what was to be a long slow run (in preparation for Reggae Marathon of course) Jan's Hot Pepper rose up and bit down hard. Actually, and without being too gross, it had slid down and announced that it wanted out. I cut my run short and made a hasty retreat home cursing every step...and every drop of hot sauce I had so eagerly slathered on the day before.
Since then I've been much more ginerly in using this hot sauce. And more strategic: No hot sauce the day before a long run. No need to tempt the running gods a second time...they may not allow me enough time to find refuge. I still like my hot sauce but I love running!
Until next time...