Modern Moto Magazine ISSUE No. 4 - September 2017 - Page 14

You arrive sweaty but no worse for wear. You amble around, socialize a bit and enjoy exploring your environment. Life is good. An hour passes; then two. You s ll haven’t eaten, and you feel a smidgen hangry. Luckily, you scoped out a food vendor nearby. Twenty minutes later, you’re shoveling a vat of pulled pork (sans the bun) down your gullet, washing it down with a 16.9-ounce bo le of water. It’s nearing 3 p.m. before you decide to head home, and the temperature remains a constant 96 degrees. Have you eaten more than the protein-rich and deliciously marbled pig? Nope. How about addi onal water or other sources of hydra on? Nada. But a fruit smoothie sounds mighty refreshing right about now, so you decide to travel slightly farther than your house to snag your favorite berrylicious concoc on. What could possibly go wrong? FIRST GEAR: Not So Air-Cooled Your eyes pop open. You’re falling. Half a blink later, you crash to the pavement. Dazed, you fl ick the kill switch by ins nct and manage to wiggle out from under your two-wheeled Zen machine, hoping the damage is limited to a cosme c-only, barely-visible ba le scar. And what about you? Humph. As if anything could be wrong with you. A er all, you were spor ng protec ve gear from head to toe. Plus, you feel fi ne. For now. Un l a few days later, when you’re walking like a zombie from a C-grade horror fl ick and your head feels like it’s a cube steak undergoing a rigorous tenderizing. How did you get here? It was a beau ful day. No clouds to cast shadows or dump buckets of rain. Perfect riding weather. That is, except for the fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk temperature with a heaping side order of swampish air. But hot and s cky isn’t going to keep you from moto bliss. You gear up, donning your lightest riding jeans — the ones with CoolMax — and your lowest riding boots, pairing them with a light co on tank. Breathable mesh jacket and gloves round out the ensemble, and, topping it all off , is your most colorful helmet. It’s sunny outside, and the extra splash of color makes you feel sunny as well. You're ge ng a much later start than you wanted (as per usual), so you forgo breakfast. Instead, you guzzle a virtually no-cal coconut water beverage and head off . Traffi c is brutal. Your des na on, typically a 35-minute haul, takes 55 minutes. The heat of your air-cooled engine bakes your legs at every agonizing stoplight. 14 Fade to black at a 4-way stop just past your house? Check. Come to seconds before kissing the asphalt? Yeppers. Mess up the crystals in your inner ear leading to ver go? Hells yes. Give yourself a case of concussion- mimicking symptoms? Absolutely. Write off electronics and, more importantly, your bike for several weeks? Damn straight. Okay, so this wasn’t you; it was me. But it could be you, so don’t be me. I’m kind of an idiot. First, it was a bad idea to skip breakfast. Not only should I have known be er based on my own body, but according to a research-backed ar cle by John Rampton on, two of breakfast’s seven benefi ts include boos ng energy and amplifying concentra on, both of which are cri cal to motorcycle safety. Further, since brains run on glucose, when I feasted on fat and protein, which take longer to convert to energy, my only meal of the day fi lled my belly but le my brain starved. Second, as a drinks-water-all-day type, it is ludicrous to think that I, of all people, did not drink enough water. Grade schoolers can tell you hydra on is necessary; however, according to U.S. Army Scien st Harris Lieberman, Ph.D., women experience more headaches and concentra on diffi cul es with mild dehydra on than do men. Per Lieberman, mild dehydra on occurs when body weight drops 1.5 percent, which typically happens during a 4- to 8-hour water fast. However, exercise and summer heat can shed water weight even quicker. And if you don’t think casual motorcycling burns calories, es mates 26 spent calories per every 15 minutes of riding (based on a body weight of 150 pounds) — just think how many calories you’d burn