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.
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Flo-wow, what a day-so sorry it wasn’t what you expected it to be. Please always carry your own fluids-it’s a lesson I learned early on. I’m the nerd always wearing my fuel belt, but ya know, I have what I need when I need it and if it adds a few seconds to my time, so be it-I’m not passed out like others I’ve seen on the courses I’ve run. Take some time to rest and know that we’ve all had bad runs! Steamtown awaits and you will be superb! Lisa
OMG… I’m laughing about so much and yet probably just b/c I’m relieved you’re okay. How scary… I’m wearing my fuel belt… unless I walk through water stations I can never get enough in my mouth. I was grateful that I had my fuel belt on last year in Chicago. But really… do you think your electrolytes were low going into today? I still think it’s strange to have your body totally melt down on you on a relatively comfortable day.
I am glad you’re okay… it’s amazing you’ve been able to think positively about this so quickly. To me that shows how strong you are mentally. Also how heart warming about Clarence. I saw a lot of that kind of “strangers helping strangers” last year in Chicago… and really I think runners are the kindest and nicest people in the world and certainly Clarence is evidence of it.
Rest up and make sure you get to your doctor to make sure you’re 100%… FWIW… last year a gal who ended up in the hospital until 11:00pm that night (Chicago 07) came out and ran a PR marathon the next weekend. You’ll be fine, but take care of yourself!
Damn Flo! So sorry to hear you had to go through that! Im just glad you are feeling better now. I was very worried.
Better to have this happen now and not Steamtown so if there is something that needs to be addressed by the doctors you can catch it! Please keep us updated
Flo — I’m with NTK — I had to laugh at the bit about realizing you didn’t poop on yourself! (Of course, I can laugh knowing you’re okay; THANK GOODNESS). As I stated in the email I sent, if this was to happen, good thing it was during a short race because you now know what you need to do for your marathon. And you know what? Even if you decide a 4-hour marathon is better, NO ONE is going to think ill of you. You’ve already proven what a remarkable runner/woman you are. Please please please do not harm yourself just to shave another 15 minutes off your time!
I’m laughing so hard I shit myself.
So did Loren.
Oh Flo!
That’s an awful way to gain experience, but hopefully you have made all of us a little wiser today. As for Steamtown, perhaps you’ve had all the problems in advance, and it will be smooth from now on.
Whoa! Well, I suppose if this had to happen, at least it happened at a race where someone was really likely to notice and help was nearby. It’s probably many a runner’s worst nightmare to have the “blackout thing” happen in some lonely and desolate location.
Holy crap Flo! So sorry to hear about your day, that sucks (I was also thinking about half way through the PDR that I wished I brought my handheld, I think I am also going to take it for my full). That is one hell of a race report though. I laughed and cried. You’ve got a lot of grit to write something like this up after the day you had. You’ve got a great attitude, you are going to rock Steamtown
Can I just say, I love you guys???
lame kissing emoticon for all of you!
I’m embarrassed to say that I felt truly humiliated while it was going on, then when I realized my splits didn’t begin to deteriorate till the end I was like, “whew! thank god it was just a medical emergency!” So shallow.
Hey Progman, how’d you do? I’m certain it was a little better for you…
What a freakin trooper you are. And to have a ‘Clarence’ right there for you is amazing. I’m glad you didn’t try and finish. I believe it would of been much worse for you…like having poopy pants. And the fact that you told Clarence. That’s hilarious. Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re recovering the best that you can. Talk with you soon on RW.
Well Flo, Onwards an upwards. I promised a report on that Marin Trail Relay, and here it is. I did take bottle of Gatorade along, BTW.
There were two co-ed teams from our club in this race. I ran the last (5th) leg for the “Lovelies and Loafers”, and our friendly rivals were the “Broads and Brutes”. As the race, with it’s big climbs and descents, progressed, the runners were getting widely separated. Minutes would pass between handovers. Kaptain Karen: “I hope you can cope with running solo, Jim, It’s hard to race when you can’t see any other competitors.” Teammate Anna: “I try to see what pace I can manage”. When I told her that my Polar watch does not give speed, only HR information, she strapped her Garmin onto my other wrist. “OK, Push this to start. Pace shows here, time is here. Good luck!” I was surprised at how heavy it was.
The “baton” was a bib on a stretchy belt. We were careful not to drop it, of course, tee hee, but the clip was broken and I had to knot it as I ran, then start my watches and commence the climb. The trail switch-backed it’s way up the side of the valley, and for a while I could catch glimpses of other runners, above and below, as we worked our way up. But this would not last, since the top of the ridge was hidden in cloud. I was winging the pace, running at about 88% Max HR, threshold pace, with the Garmin showing speeds ranging from 10:30 to 11:20 or so. Not bad for the gradient. At the top, the fog closed in, and I started up the ridge, the so-called Ocean View Trail, heh. 400 vertical feet done, only 900 to go, yay! I picked up the pace a little. Begone, you elevens, only tens and nines from here to the top! Diana, my opponent on this leg, started with a hefty lead, and is no slouch, so my chances of catching her looked dim, unless she blew up on this hill. I looked ahead hopefully. The fog was getting thicker, my spooky little world had a radius of about 30 yards of trail, low scrub and an occasional big rock.
Hey, I was catching someone! Oh, not a runner, but a mountain biker in low gear. “Passing on your right!” Not often I get to say that to a cyclist. Later another figure came into view. A runner, but not Diana. Oh well, picked up a place, anyway. I slowed a little, since it was getting really thick and there was a turn coming up. Here’s a group of hikers looking intently at a map and… There’s the Dipsea Trail marker!
The Dipsea rolled for a while, then started downhill. Check the Garmin: 6:20 pace. Yup, I’m fast downhill, but not the fastest. One guy actually passed me here, so I lost that place I’d gained.
Most of it was not that fast though. There were some sharp turns and steep parts. The fog thinned, and took on color. That blue tint to the left must be the ocean, but what the heck was that diagonal white slash in front? Was I about to be kidnapped by aliens? Clear air revealed it to be the surf at my destination, Stinson Beach. Still more than a mile away, and a long way down, but a welcome sight.
Then into the trees, and it got really steep, with switchbacks and stairs. A short uphill came as (almost) a relief after all that quad-workout. Three hikers stood aside and applauded as I stormed up the slope.
Another fast bit, then a road, and a turn to the finish.
I ran my leg in 55 minutes at an average pace of 8:12. We were 13th out of 25. The B&Bs were 11th, beating us by 5:55. But we were the 2nd all-masters team! I could have done it better, I think. Hmm, could get a taste for this trail racing game…
1:55:34, thanks for asking – nothing to write home about but still faster than the MP run I had originally planned it to be. I realized in the first couple of miles it was going to be a warm one and tried to hit the water tables hard (cytomax = yuck). I think we will both be well served to run races with handhelds from now on. Hope you are feeling better, be sure to update on your doctors report.
Well if your going to DNF you DNF! Glad your ok now. Im sure you will overanalyze the experience and make sure it wont happen again.
Jim, that’s a stellar report!! What a great pace and on trails!! Too cool that she gave you her Garmin, “take this magical watch young man, and venture forth!”
Also, what a trip to tell a cyclist you’re passing. Love it.
Progman, congrats! Not surprised you exceeded MP. I don’t know how anyone can not race a race, it would take a strong backbone, which I certainly don’t have. Yeah, handhelds rule!!
Bruce, hey, may as well do it the Nth degree, huh? Lol, this blog post was enough analyzing for me.
Yeah, those Garmin doohickeys are kinda magical. I might have to get one now. Oh dear.
Just letting you all know that Ol’ Poopy Pants really didn’t live up to that name today but had her nickname been Big Brass Balls she would have fit it to a tee! I walk into the ER and she’s lying there with all manner of tubes, connectors and cuffs on and she’s asking the doctor if she can run tomorrow!
That’s my girl!
Jim, they are amazing, but I’m becoming less in love with them for racing. They’re never spot on with the mile markers (at least where I live), so I just use it as a watch, hitting the lap button at each clock. Then I play with the splits afterwards in SportTracks (excellent free program!) where you can adjust any errant gps points.
Nick, you are my hero! Thank you for being with me today. Woulda been god-awful boring (and scary) without you there. Big Brass Balls…I like that! Especially as an alternative to Poopy Pants.
Ooof. I am so sorry to hear your day went that way and so sorry that my concerns were not unfounded. If I may add another silver lining:
5. The DNF was not from an injury like a trip/fall/broken ankle that would have ended your Steamtown goal (the REAL goal).
I have to say my worst fears for you (as I started to realize your time was not coming in) were along the lines of Deena Kastor in Beijing and I’m so glad THAT was unfounded.
I will echo the sentiments of others here who have stated how courageous you are not just in working toward your goals but also in laying out a setback like this, in all its “gory glory”. I feel we are the ones who are blessed to have someone like yourself so willing to share both the good and the bad. I have to say that reading your training reports, aside from being highly entertaining, do motivate me to bust some ass out there for myself and that is what helped me meet and surpass my own goal for PDR’08.
Take it easy the next few days, make SURE you’re good to go, and then “have at it” as I am certain you will.
I know it’s small consolation, but you were definitely ahead of me when you were on the yellow seat, and no, I did not see you at all! So not *everybody* was staring at you!
Glad you’re OK and all the best,
Todd
PS – At no point reading your post did I believe you had shit your pants, and I am happy you validated that by the end. Though I wouldn’t have thought less of you if you had. :P
Hi Nick,
It must have been stressful for you, also. But then you’re an athlete too, so you ‘get it’. Flo’s a lucky gal, I think.
Todd, congrats on beating yourself today at PDR, that’s fabulous!! You are so sweet, and so right, Nick was saying the same thing, it’s a great thing I didn’t fall and really hurt myself.
About the “gory glory”, I admit to saying to Clarence at one point, “someone needs to take a picture of this, this needs to be documented!!” “this” being my totally confused, staggering, filthy self. I blame it on too much reality television.
people people…
the falling and hurting yourself is MY story…Flo’s gotta stick to the ghost bear.
Thanks Jim and I’m letting the rest of you know that Ol’ Big Brass Balls was blubbering and sniffling as she read all the comments and kept repeating: “I love these guys, I really do!”
And of course, all through our ER episode she kept on saying that she couldn’t wait to write her report. As for Clarence, I’m sure he got his wings for today.
Hah, Ghost Bear, I love that!!
And for the record on Nick’s note, that was figurative blubbering and sniffling, but I did say “I love these guys, I really do!” about all of you. I managed to only cry once today when Nick got to the ER.
Oh my god, Flo! I’m so glad you’re OK! How scary – but on the other hand (since it ended well), it makes for a great, memorable running story.
Well, this is as good a time as any to say hello!
I’ve been reading your blog for months and months! I love your running/training stories and info. And have been so impressed with your odyssey. So, anyway, I click to read your Half adventure and never expected this kind of experience!!
I’m glad to know you’re okay and I know you’ll rock your marathon!!
Oh my god! I was really scary as I read the first lines of your post and felt worry all the time of your report. But now I’m glad that you’re okay. Be careful and give your body the rest it needs!!!
Ol’ Big Brass Balls, HA! At least you didn’t sully that reputation with a shitty skirt.
Holy moly, flo! I am so glad you are alright. It’s scary to think how close you were to blacking out and possibly worse. So, let’s hope this is just a bump on the road to Steamtown, which I’m sure it is.
I also got a little dehydrated out there yesterday, I think. Is that what excessively salty sweat means? I had some salt crystals on my legs after the race. Tasty btw. I put them on my pretzel. :P
Wow, I just wanna hug you all. And how cool that this brought out some long-timer readers, first-time commenters.
Jasmine, I’m sorry I can’t read your blog, but I don’t speak a word of German! The pictures are cool though.
Especially that running route on such green, fertile country.
Stacey, thanks for sticking with the blog all this time, very cool to hear from you. And I like your blog! Had to laugh at your kitschy purchases.
Joe, Schmoe!! Mmmm…pretzels. Yeah, salt crystals on you is an indication that you could use extra electrolytes.
Hi Flo,
I just started reading your blog. I am glad that you are Okay. I also just started running a year ago and joined the couch to 5k. You inspire me to want to do better. At 51 years old it seems that I constantly get hurt. But reading your Blog keeps me going.
Looking forward to reading more.
Apart from lessons about heat, hydration and electrolytes, I think their is something useful here for any potential Clarences amongst us. It might be good to do a version of the what-year-is-it routine before talking a runner into continuing. Something like this:
What year is iit?
2000 um 8.
Who is the president?
Er, Sarah Palin?
Uh Oh. MEDIC!!!!
Sorry, couldnt resist that.
Flo, I swear you are my fricken hero in all respects. Not only are you hilarious as hell, but you’re just a bad ass. Can I swear on your blog???
You had all the classic signs of dehydration and heat stroke. I had to laugh out loud when you told Clarence the Angel that you shit your pants. That guy DOES sound like an angel. I wonder if he told you that you actually did not shit yourself and you just forgot hearing it???
In any case, young lady, I’m so glad you’re okay. I learned a lot from your race report. Anything can and will happen on race day! I wish I was there with you, but it sounds like you had angels at every turn (especially after you got sick).
I look forward to reading your full marathon race report. Something tells me that you will HAVE full redemption there. Hugs to you, Flo!
Hi Flo: I must say this is not what I expected to find on your blog today. That being said, I am glad you didn’t do a full gainer or anything like that! I mean, pooping your pants is one thing, but face first on the concrete/asphalt is a little harder to recover from
. Take care of yourself for a few days and then wow us with some more of your awesome training. And to GB, “Can I swear on your blog”? Obviously you haven’t been reading too closely. LOL
Tobes
wow. my race was a little tame in comparison. i did carry my fuelbelt bottle and was ahppy for it. i cant drink from the cups- end up wearing more than i drink. had a 16 oz bottle and that worked well – even if i do look like a “nerd” to some as stated in a post above. 1:33.54, 3 second PR for me and my FUELBELT. Seems like you have a great outlook, and that this experience has educated rather than worried you. Good luck in Steamtown.
Hey, Flo this is your buddy Beth from Fayetteville. I’ve been reading your blog, keeping up with your training and enjoying it immensely! I had been hoping against hope that you would manage your first marathon without having your first bonking incident though. Nearly everyone I know that has been running more than a few years has experienced this sort of thing. I had a woman just keel over right in front of me in a race one time, scared me to death. Had to call in the medics and she recovered but she got hauled off in the golf cart . I’m glad to hear that you are recovering and would like to give you a little heads up. I would always carry a water bottle especially in races, I’ve had too many instances where by the time I got to a water table (since I’m turtle speed) they were out. Plus, after seeing my 2nd ex-husband go down to the floor with cramps all through his body after finishing a marathon just using Gu and water I always do one water stop Gu and water and then next one I will drink only Gatorade and trade back and forth like this all the way through. Come to find out the ex had washed all the electrolytes he was taking in with the Gu out with his sweating. And ever since I got extremely dehydrated once just during a training run, dry heaves, dizzy all that good stuff I have noticed if I get the least bit dehydrated I get nauseous which had not happened before that incident. It’s like the old body remembers and doesn’t want to have it happen again. So just be careful getting back out there! But I know you will still kick that marathon’s butt. Love ya!
If you people don’t stop being so loving and unbelievably supportive, I may start crying after all. I’m seriously moved by everything posted here, can’t believe how lucky I am that for such a selfish endeavor as a stupid running blog I get all this sweet spirited warmth from people I don’t even know. I feel like I’m in the middle of a giant group hug and it’s
oh fuck, here I go…time for a tissue. I guess I’m a little shell-shocked today.
Thank you, dear readers, thank you.
BETH!! Just found your comment waiting in moderation, I somehow missed it. Great advice all the way. Man, you’ve seen it happen then on more than one occasion. Btw, so glad we’ve hooked up again after all these years, especially since you’re a runner, too!! Crazy small world.
Hey IronmanMatt, woohoo on the PR!! Glad to know the fasties carry water, too.
Add me to the list of long-time readers, first-time commenters. Wow, Flo! You do everything big, don’t you? I was in tears reading your report, but I was laughing by the end. So glad you are okay. Congratulations on making it through every runner’s worst nightmare. Get some good, quality rest this week and then get out there and ROCK STEAMTOWN. (((BIG HUGS)))
Thanks Elizabeth, Pat and the other new commenter/posters. Sorry it took an emergency to get you out in the open, but so glad to meet all of you – I appreciate you making yourselves known! Yay you!
What some people won’t do to get attention
HAHAHA!!! Tobey, if you lived locally, I’d come over right now and slap you upside the head.
Wow, what an experience! Sorry to hear you had a bad day. I will use your lessons learned – hydrate hydrate hydrate. Clarence was your angel his help was touching.
How are you feeling now, Flo? Any lingering aftereffects? Running yet?
Well Jim, I’m feeling like crap mentally, out of sorts and sad, but it’s to be expected after all the hullabaloo and suddenly mistrusting my body that’s been like a rock through all this training. No after effects physically except a sore back, which I never have, probably stress induced.
I can’t run till I get my second EKG so I should be good to go tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be posting a fresh entry after the doc appt, and I’m sure I’ll be feeling better by then. Thanks for asking.
Mistrust your body? I think it acted correctly in the circumstances, putting you on the ground before things got severe. But I know what you mean. Good luck with the EKG.
Good point, the body did exactly what it was supposed to do, but yeah…you know what I’m talking about.
Flo,
I anxiously await the results of your EKG, almost as much as you do, and apparently a lot of other folks on here as well.
You do know I was kidding, right? Please don’t slap me
Tobes
TOBEY, you kook!! Of course I knew you were joking, that’s why the HAHAHA bit preceded my reply…I was joking back, you silly!! Such sensitive men around here…
I just didn’t want to get slapped, better be safe than sorry! Off to school, take care!
whoa, that is one scary story!
you were on my list of runners to track during the race and i thought your chip must have malfunctioned after mile 10… thank god the chip is ok
your marathon will feel like nothing compared to this!!
Hey girly! Too funny!! The stupid orange chip is in perfect condition, still attached to my shoe as a matter of fact, mocking me in its ability work better than my own judgment. Lol, glad you brought it up, I’ve got scissors right here..ah, much better. Now to burn the shirt…
I got to your site from Progman2000.
Sorry to hear about your PDR run. It is great that you posted what happened to you, so others can learn from it.
I hit the water spots at the PDR, but wasn’t that thrilled with the taste of the Cytomax.
Good luck with your continued training for Steamtown.
Thanks Flyers26 and Tim, too!! More new visitors piping up with words of support is just the coolest. Many happy miles to you (and all the rest of you gals and guys, too).
So sry Flo.
Too bad you didn’t shat yourself.. joke..
I am a doctor and I have volunteered at many races and have seen what happened to you many times to others. I am glad you “stopped” and DNF, because it could’ve got much worse. Dehydration/heat stroke can be deadly so be careful. Heat stroke is caused by “DEHYDRATION.” Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, weakness, dizziness. You hit em all! Were you still perspiring?
I hope your follow up dr visit goes well. Many times when your electrolytes; specifically Potassium, Magnesium, Calcium,Sodium get out of whack they can lead to arrythmias or minor changes to your EKG waveforms. Not uncommon.
Glad you are ok. Be careful.
Hi Dave,
Thanks for the reminder of the dangers of dehydration.
Judging by what happened to Flo, the dehydration/heat stroke beast can sneak up on you. Now I don’t feel so dorky for taking a bottle along for group runs even when my buddies go without. I also ‘tank up’ by drinking maybe 20oz before I set out. I don’t handle heat well, but I’ve managed to avoid dehydration to date (so far as I know). Would absence of new sweat be a reliable early sign, I wonder?
Dave, so cool to know you’re a doc, you have my utmost respect! One of the weird things that happened that I forgot about was when all the guys first gathered around me beginning to do whatever they were doing (I think this was before I’d been given anything, but really I’m not sure), I got cold. I remember standing there asking everyone, “I’m cold, are you cold, did it get cold?” I wonder if that was a no-sweat moment…
OTOH, it could have been because they gave me something and it was making me gets chills? Can’t remember exactly. I do remember being annoyed because everyone ignored my question. I guess they weren’t cold, lol.
You are one tough cookie. I just cannot wait for Steamtown to hear all about how you tore that thing up!!!
Hey Daleen, thanks for stopping by. Wish you were Steamtowning too!!!
Hey, I too suffered dehydration at PDR…maybe we could start our own club! I didn’t know it during the race, just felt like sh1t and figured I was having a bad day. I managed to push myself through it to the end to finish ten minutes slower than last year. :-(
It wasn’t until after I finished that I realized how bad things were. By the time I got home it was scary. Spent the rest of the day/evening in the ER getting fluids and zofran.
Your post had me cracking up. Now at least when I tell my story to people I can say: “hey, but at least I didn’t crap my shorts like some other girl didn’t!” ;-)
I hope you’re feeling better!!!
Hey Bill, compatriot in dehydration!! OMG, I can’t believe you ended up in the ER, too!! And later after you got home, poor thing! I don’t even know what zofran is, I’ll google it.
I’m still floored over the whole incident (as well as others saying how much it heated up for them near the end of the race) since the temps didn’t get over 71. Guess it was a freak day.
Glad you’re feeling better, too. Now let’s drink to that (hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!).
Dang, that’s the most amazing race report I’ve ever read. Sorry that the elements conspired against you, but your fortitude and humor make you my newest running heroine.
A muse, considering you’re one of my running heroes on Marathon Training, it’s an honor to have you pop in, much less say such a nice thing, thank you so much!
Scary stuff — yet hilariously written!
I actually did manage shit myself in a race over the summer. I consider it a rite of passage.
I’m running Steamtown too this year. My fourth trip down the Highway to Hell that is the marathon. Best of luck to you!
Welcome Julie! How strange (and cool) to see a proper avatar besides my own, yay for you!
That’s hilarious that you actually pooped yourself, though oh god, do I feel for you! Just imagining it was uber horrible, so you poor thing to have to deal with it for real. You’re truly a hardcore runner now.
Hey, if you recognize my pic (yours is tiny), come up and say hi at the race. And super good luck to you, too!!
Flo OMG—I am so glad you are ok! And so glad after all that you did poop yourself!
xoxoxo
Miss you,
Joe
Hey Joe!! Yeah, I’m lucky to have missed the bear this time ’round, at least. So glad you came for a visit, I miss you too, you cutie guy!!
Thanks for sharing this story so candidly. You are a strong woman! Here’s to hand-helds!
Hey Flo. I’ve been reading your past race reports. My heart goes out to you on this one. It is a frightful story. You must have recovered quickly (physically and mentally) to rock Steamtown the way that you did. Your personality shines through on this post. You took a terrible experience and wrote a thoughtful, interesting and funny race report. I’m totally sold on the Clarence being an angel part.
Flo,
Wow, what an adventure! Sorry that you experienced it all, but thanks for sharing, as I’ve always been curious what happens to a runner under such circumstances. You’re lucky that Clarence was there for you on the day that you needed him most; he was truly your angel.