Seasick

(by Guest Writer Pien Huang)

Last night I used the Stairmaster in the After Science Hold.* The Stairmaster is isolated from the Rowing Machine and the Stationary Bike, which share a room with the Ab Roller and the magnet-activated Treadmill. Twenty minutes of Intervals, pitching and rolling in industrial fumes, elicited near-vomitous results. Denying seasickness, I was certain that laying prostrate on the floor was the first step towards a hamstring stretch.

This morning we set the clocks back an hour. Twelve hours of lulling should have prepared me to stand. Instead, I was nauseously dry-heaving after two sets of stairs. Seated on a doormat just inside a hatch to the outside, breathing what little fresh air was leaking in, I tried to will open the six latches barring the door. It was some time before I stopped sweating, but when I finally stood up, I ate a bowl of cherries and congratulated myself on staying drug-free.

Moral of this story: I’m convinced that seasickness is a state of mind that can be thought out of. Seasickness results from a disparity between the signals that your brain receives from your eye and your inner ear. Scopolamine, a patch stuck behind the ear, slows the sloshing of your ear liquids by floating a layer of oil on top. In effect, it fools your brain into thinking that you’re standing still. But why be outsmarted by a sticker? If monks walk calmly on hot coals and naked mole rats feel no pain, I can certainly convince my brain that I am actually moving.

* NB: Cassandra and I were feeling great last night (at least before the workout), whereas Dan was not. Don’t let him kid you; he has been amiss.