My worst race yet….
Last night I had a little stomache ache. Little did I know, this was an indicator of things to come. Nevertheless, I layed out my gear:
(I brought another sports bra and tank top bc I planned on doing another 5-7 miles after the race)
Got up at 4:45, went to have my coffee and look what I found:
I kinda like that guy. And yes, we use words like “supa” in our house. English is overrated. You can use KAMRAN, the true specialist, if you want, btw.
Ready to go, or so I thought:
Yeah, I match my room, I know. That tank is Nike but the Adidas sports bra logo seems to be a beacon of shining light. Yeah, I totally brand clashed.
And the gift that keeps on giving: my miniscule throw-away shirt:
This is what a dryer will do to a Mens size L wool sweater. And you better believe I got it back… again. I couldn’t get this thing off my hands if I personally hand delivered it to the garbage man.
Left by 5:30 and was parked by 6am. I’m liking this so far. Got my number and ate most of a Clif bar before throwing away what I couldn’t stomache. Then I had to use the toilet. For polite points, let’s just say I had drippy poo. Still oblivious to the fact that my stomache and I are at war, we start the race.
First mile is 7:20, too fast.
Second mile is 7:30, perfect but I start getting indigestion and burping. Stopped looking at my garmin already.
Third mile burped up a bite of Clif bar. I’m burping OUT LOUD those deep-in-your-bowel burps that seem to rattle your bones. If no one shows up for next year’s run, this could be a reason why.
Mile 4.5 I throw up. Not a whole lot… some bile, Clif bar, and coffee, but enough to make me want to quit. Now before you press the “send” button on the Congratulations on your impending motherhood e-cards, I’m not pregnant. Or at least I hope not… since I’m sitting here swigging a bottle of whiskey and smoking a cig. Yeah right, everyone knows I think whiskey is gross. I’m a mojito/margarita imbiber.
Mile 5 is where the finish is and I desperately want to quit but I hate the letters DNF at this point so I keep going.
The rest was pretty much awful. I felt a little better after throwing up, but mentally I was out of the game. I was frustrated with myself and couldn’t pick myself up again.
I finished in 1:21:28, an 8:08 mile average. I had wanted to run between 7:35-7:50 min miles so I was a stinking buttload off. Bummer, but as is life.
My thutt is pretty sore, and I really started favoring it around mile 8. I honestly don’t know how I will run a marathon in 6 weeks….
Needless to say, I didn’t do my 5-7 extra miles. I went to my car and pouted.
The only thing that made me happy was when I got home and found out that J-dawg had drippy poo too. hahahha! Misery loves loose bowels.
