Archive for September 21st, 2008

This was a day of firsts:

1. First Did Not Finish
2. First time my body’s ever given out on me
3. First Ambulance Ride
4. First ER stay
5. First intravenous
6. First EKG

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Got to my corral easily, lots of room.  The Star Spangled Banner singer forgot the words which made all 15,000 of us crack up.  Then the race began.

Started off fine, much better racing this year than last, I’ve learned a lot about pacing and not freaking out, so it was steady as she goes from the top.  Started off with a couple 8:03s, the next two were 7:53, 7:54, then 8:01s, feeling pretty good about, too.  At mile 4, I needed a drink, so I got some water at the station, but only managed a sip.

Continuing on to West River Drive, I didn’t take my own advice to get on the sidewalk at the camber because I didn’t want to deal with it and also, I really wanted to run this course the way it’s certified, without any shortcuts or adjustments.  No problem, the camber didn’t even seem bad to me, when it has in the past.

The map showed the next water stop at the 10K mark, so I took my gel too early.  I really missed having a flask, because I had this full mouth of snot (the gel) and had to breathe a few times before I could get it down.  Then the water stop was a bit farther than I’d presumed, so I was getting all anxious about if I’d cramp from the delay.  No cramp, so that was good, but again, I obviously didn’t get enough water in me, though didn’t realize it at the time.  I really hate water stops.

At this point, my pace is starting to lag and I’m thinking I suck, why is this happening, interspersed with positive attempts, like how strong I am and all that jazz.   Well, you can imagine which side was winning.  When we come to the little hill towards Falls Bridge, I push it hard, knowing it’s easier once that bit’s over, but not feeling too good.

I had one more half-assed water stop at mile 11 and that’s when it happened.  I can’t even remember clearly how it started, I think I moved to the side of the road and just basically sat down.  Then this really handsome guy comes over and asks me if I’m OK.  He’s just standing there, I’ve no idea where he came from.  I tell him I don’t feel right, he hands me some Cytomax which I promptly throw up in several heaves.

The medic guys come over on their Segways and ask if I’m ok, I tell them I’m naseous and unsure if I’m alright.  Meanwhile, I ask the handsome guy what his name is, it’s Clarence, which ended up being immensly ironic to me, because if you remember, the angel in It’s A Wonderful Life was named Clarence, and this guy turns into my angel.  He stands there with me and says, I’m sticking with you, you can finish this race, I’ll wait till you’re ready.  I’m like, no, no, my stomach feels awful, you don’t have to wait with me, just go on.  But no, he waits until I say ok, and stand up, so rickety.

And for the next mile, he’s got my hand in his and says, no, this won’t be a DNF, you will finish this race.  Meanwhile, it’s crazy that this total stranger has let me ruin his own!  But it was horrible.  I was walking with this foreign loping uncontrollable gait, feeling like throwing up, telling him that this is all my fault, I was too cocky all this time, I have this popular running blog and I’ve been so sure of what I could do and look at the mess I’m in now.   For some reason, I thought this was my marathon! I was totally out of it.

Btw, picture me in my cute running skirt, covered in dirt and grass (because I wiped my face with grass after I puked).  Runners keep passing, asking, “does she need a medic?” but Clarence says, “no, she’s ok.”

At one point, I say to Clarence, this total stranger, “oh, god, I shit my pants.” which cracks me up in a sick way, as I remember this guy on the Marathon Forum who always talks about The Bear during races.  Shitting in your pants is The Bear.  I couldn’t believe I’d come face to face with The Bear.  So not only was it humiliating looking so filthy, disheveled and weak, I thought I had a huge shit stain on the back of my skirt.  Clarence is nonplussed and says, “no problem, that’s ok” but I’m sure he wondered why I kept muttering on about a bear.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was so disoriented, that although I run on this route every damn day, I had no clue what mile we were at, but I did know that the end was far away.  So I told Clarence I was totally ok with a DNF, I had to DNF, this was the end of the road for me, and just sat myself on the side of the street.  He got help, which came and asked me a few questions, but once I stood up and was totally dizzy, they got into emergency mode.  All these men appeared, opening things and sticking me with things, putting oxygen on me.

Eventually a car comes with the yellow seat of shame.  I call it that because it’s on the end of the car, so you’re facing all these runners coming towards you.  Let me tell you, it’s one thing to be sitting by the road and having everyone (and I mean everyone) who passes, stare at you, but it’s entirely another to be in the yellow seat of shame with an oxygen mask on, especially once it rounded the museum and not a single person didn’t turn their head for a good look.  Horrible.

But what was more horrible was when the medic guy starts asking me simple questions like, “what’s your birthday?” and I can’t quite remember.  I knew my name and my street, but I had no idea what my zipcode was, total blank.  It was at that point that I got scared.

Finally we pull up to the medic tent, two guys take my feet, another takes my back and they carry me in and put me on a cot.  But not before I look at the yellow seat of shame, relieved that I’d left no stain there.

All these wonderful doctor people are around, soooo incredibly nice, it was touching.  The one woman starts asking me questions, “what year is it?”  I thought and thought and finally said, “8! um…2000?  8?” which still didn’t seem like the right answer.  She asked me something else I didn’t know, but the funny thing was when she asked who the president was, I replied with pure vitriol, “BUSH!” (some things you just don’t forget).

They give me some fluids and she tells me I’ll need to go to the hospital because my blood pressure is 80/60 and I couldn’t answer those questions, so they need to know I didn’t have heat stroke. Before I leave she asks me how old I am for the second time, and when I say again, “47″, she said she thought I’d gotten it wrong the first time, didn’t think I was actually that old.  So I loved that woman dearly.

Then I tell one of the guys about Clarence, who wanted to meet me at the Rocky Statue, to tell him I won’t be able to meet him, but there he is in the tent.  I hugged and kissed him but am so sad I didn’t get his phone number, I feel like I at least owe him $65 for the race.  Though it’s a good thing I didn’t continue walking with him when I did, the doc said if I’d continued, I’d have likely blacked out.

Anyway, I turn to get off the cot and onto the gurney, and I can’t even fucking stand.  I fall back on the cot.  So with some help, I get on the gurney and there’s my first ambulance ride.  woohoo

Again, sweetest people imaginable, the girl in the ambulance gives me more fluid and wraps sheets around me because I’m shivering at this point.  My blood pressure’s still a worry, it’s not rising.  Then we get to the hospital, where yet again, incredibly sweet people, everyone smiling and meaning it, just lovely.  This is my first visit to a hospital, so maybe they’re all like this but I had no idea.

They put me in a little room, I tell the doctor what happened, she says my electrolytes are terribly depleted, they hook me up to more fluids, take blood, and eventually my blood pressure rises a bit, though not as fast as she’d like.  Meanwhile, I tell her I pooped my pants which she says is a natural stress reaction to the dehydration.

They take an EKG and it turns out there’s some borderline thing there, might be genetic, but I need to go to my doctor in the next couple of days and get another to make sure it’s not worse.  I can run as soon as I’ve seen my doctor, so it looks like I won’t be out really, since I’m off tomorrow and Tuesday and Wednesday were going to be 5 milers for recovery anyway.

Nick is freaked out when I call from the hospital, and he rushes to my side, waiting with me over 3 hours, bringing a change of clothes, because of course, I told him too that I’d pooped myself.

So how lovely when I’m strong enough to walk to the bathroom to take a piss, I find out I’d never even shat myself! And here I’d announced it to a full assortment of total strangers.  Oh well.

My lessons learned from this surreal adventure are:

1. I am taking my handheld with me for long races from here on in, no question about it.  I don’t care to become a better water stop drinker, I train with the bottle and it gives me confidence to have it on me, so why tempt fate?  Sure, I’ll have to stop at water stations still, but so many fewer and I’m already used to unscrewing the cap as I approach fountains, so what’s the diff if it’s a spigot, fountain, or a few cups from a water station.  Plus, it makes taking gels infinitely easier.

2. Take S-caps for long races if it’s above 45 degrees.  I didn’t bother taking them today, thinking it wasn’t that hot out and besides, I would be taking 2 gels, so my electrolytes should have been covered, but I got fucked up with electrolytes before I even got to my second gel.  If I’d have taken an S-cap, which has about 6 times the electrolytes of gels, I probably would have avoided going down so badly.

3. I’m adjusting my goal marathon time to 3:45.  I know what it feels like to hurt and I don’t like it.   3:45 is only 5 minutes different, but it’s enough to feel I’m still running to potential.  My pace only suffered after I got sick, so I still believe my training has been strong to support a great time in Steamtown, though you can imagine I thought I’d need to bag it entirely when I was in my half-brained state.  I even thought of ending this blog, getting off the forums and quitting running completely.  I was really kooky there for a while.

And now for some silver-linings:

1. It wasn’t a full marathon as I’d imagined it was at one point, so the DNF is only half bad.
2. By experiencing this miserableness in a Half, I’m all the more richer for Steamtown.
3. For the lack of electrolytes, my body never once cramped, if we don’t count my brain.
4. I didn’t shit myself.