It probably doesn't surprise many of you (especially my longtime readers) that I have a track record of making piss-poor life decisions. But this was especially true going into Saturday's nine mile run. Actually, most were actually decisions from Friday night that spilled over into the next morning. I left my apartment around 8am and it was already over 80 degrees. This was after telling my friends that we'd meet at 8, emailing when I got home saying I needed to change it to 8:30 and then texting that morning saying actually it'd be more like 8:45. For your reference, by the time I got home the real feel temperature was about 95 degrees. I had the pleasure of running 5 miles and then puking (sorry friends who had to see me vomit). Running two more miles and then puking (sorry patrons outside the Dunkin Donuts on Memorial Drive who had to see me vomit into the river) again. And then I run/walked the last two miles. By the time I got home I was pretty miserable, and at the brink of tears. I've done a lot of thinking and pinpointed where I went wrong:
- Two beers - This in and of itself shouldn't be a problem except it was followed by..
- Two extremely strong frozen margaritas - I could still smell the tequila on myself the next morning
- Approximately one million tortilla chips, PLUS pork belly guacamole - hot damn it was delicious but probably not the best thing to have in my stomach going into a long run in what turned out to be 95+ degree temperatures
- Not enough sleep - I got home a little before midnight so in theory I could have gotten seven hours of sleep. That would be if I had fallen asleep right away and if alcohol didn't make me the most awful, restless sleeper EVER.
- Not enough water - When I woke up I knew that I was dehydrated so I took in as much water as my stomach would allow. Between the booze and the terrible heat
- Too much Gatorade - I normally dilute it with water but it wasn't enough and I think the sugar just hit my empty stomach like a ton of bricks
The lessons I've learned from this? Basically I need to take care of myself. I can go out the night before a long run. I can even have a couple (key words: NO MORE THAN TWO) of drinks. But I NEED to be hydrated and I NEED a good night's sleep. I'm a big girl and I know that I did this to myself, but I can (almost) promise that I won't be making the same mistake again.
Another realization is that marathon training is that it keeps me humble. I had a week of pretty great runs and then this one came and just knocked me on my ass. But I've got another thirteen weeks of training to go and hopefully this terrible run will soon be a distant memory. I know that I'm going to have a lot of really great runs between now and November. I can also guarantee that I will have some really terrible ones that might make me cry. I just really, really hope that I can refrain from any further pukage. Especially in public
Talk to me about your worst run ever. Come on, I know you've got some stories to tell!