The Return of the Stitch

September 21, 2007.

Adam (a new reporter at the Scriptor) took a photo of Austyn and I at the computer in newspaper class today for a TNT video project. It's great having Austyn back in newspaper--victorious over her cancer. She is now one of our opinion editors and working on an article about the student trip to France this past summer.

She has always been athletic and probably already learned what I did yesterday just before my training run: before I was defeated by a Ruben sandwich.

I learned a few weeks ago not to gulp down a mint chocolate mud frosty and then gorge on 15 Chicken McNuggets slathered in sweet and sour sauce an hour or two before a long run.

I should have globalized that lesson.

Last night was our weekly, team TNR (Thursday Night Run--but sounds oh so official as an acronym).

This mixed group of ability runners includes those who run a 6-7 minute 10K, a 7-9 minute 10K, and then me- you might call me the anchor, the one who gets lost at the end of the pack, the slowest runner. It's cool though because everyone is so nice-- Lou esp. who ran with me my first few times out and even dragged me pouting, sweating, and seething in anger off of various lawns when I refused to run anymore the first few weeks I ever ran. On days we go out afterward, they wait for me at the Farmer's Market. They usually they only have to wait ten or so minutes, and they don't make fun of me too much for being so slow at this early point in my running journey.

Today, though, well today, was just plain embarrassing.

Pre-run drink: gulped down organic pineapple juice from Trader Joes 30 to 20 minutes before the run. I actually thought all that sugar would be great glycogen fuel for my legs
Pre-run meal: greasy Ruben and cheese sandwich with hot sauerkraut in buttery pita bread.
Eaten fifteen minutes before my planned 6-8 mile run with my team.

Showed up at Farmer's Market to stretch w/ the team and we all chatted runner chat-- breaking in new shoes, merits of Brooks vs other shoes, road vs trail, how to get your Garmin to find a satellite faster (Lou doesn't believe me that holding it up toward the sky and away from buildings helps-- Mark also thinks this is ridiculous and says I look like I am ET trying to phone home with my running watch). What we planned to run this Saturday and what we planned to run on Thursday nights as the Saturday runs got longer, etc. Anyway, I felt like a seasoned runner with seasoned runner obsessions, interests, concerns.

My teammates noted all my electronic paraphernalia as we started out: my beeping Garmin (to tell me I was running too slow) my I-Pod, my high tech attached to the arm water bottle, my no glare sunglasses. I laughed and said "Beem me up Scotty!" and right then the Garmin beeped again--we were running and laughing and I barely noticed how fast we were going .

HA!!! very soon all I had was the fight between my lungs and legs to keep me company--oh and my up-chucked Ruben.

I started out too fast: a 6.5 minute pace--ouch, ouch, ouch-- I just wanted to be able to talk w/ people as I ran. Well, I changed that goal after just .10 of a mile and realized it was either slow down or fling myself onto the nearest lawn. So I slowed to a more comfortable 9.5-10 minute pace--ah, felt good, turned on my I-Pod and enjoyed a little "Walking on Sunshine--Oh Yeah! and don't it feel good!!"

Only about a mile into the run, my breathing got crazy labored and it started to feel like a small balloon was being inflated in my esophagus. My legs were doing fine though, actually my legs really enjoyed the forward momentum and wanted to go faster. My lungs puffed out and crawled up into my mouth and begged me to stop.

What the heck is going on? I just ran an easy five miles on Tuesday after my 10 K on Sunday-- easy, fun, runner's high inducing 5 miles. Why am I choking after only one mile??? My legs told my lungs to suck it up and keep going, so I listened to them and did. By 1.6 miles, the cramp that had also began with my choking feeling got worse. It started to feel like a very angry Ed Ghein was performing indelicate surgery with a butcher knife through my stomach wall and into my intestines. My stomach not only cramped, it burned and twisted and I had to stop and walk. From then on, it was walk a little, run a little, walk a little w/ arms above my head, walk a little. I took a different path at this point than my team (couldn't even see em at this point anyway) and decided to cut my rout and make it just a 4-miler. My legs really started to feel good and I ran another mile: my legs and lungs and gut fighting it out the whole way. Legs: "This is fun!! This is what we love! I'm flyingj!!!" My gut: "If you don't stop I'm going to get ripped in half or puke on you." Legs: "Whatever, get over yourself. Wimp. The feeling will pass." Lungs: (in a hoarse and faint whisper) "I ccccan't bbbreath, please stop".
Stupid me, I listened to the legs.
Next thing I knew about 2.6 miles, up came the evil Rubin and his evil side kick Sauerkraut. You know how sometimes throw up tastes like the food itself? Well I learned that a digested Ruben tastes just like you image eating a bowl of throw up would. I didn't want to throw up Ruben on my white running shirt, so I swallowed that now digested Ruben back down. Oh that acid burn. I will never, and I mean never, be able to eat neither a Ruben sandwich nor sauerkraut again. Actually, just writing about it is making me a bit queasy. Especially because I kept listening to legs, even after that, and kept letting them revolve almost mindlessly underneath me-- quite unsympathetic to what my gastro-intestinal system just endured.

Well, Ruben and Sauerkraut came back at mile 4 again and this time with a vengeance that didn't let me swallow them back down. I doubled over and puked off of 11 mile road, just blocks before my return to the Farmers Market. I gulped down a ton of water and it helped some. That was it. No more listening to legs. I walked briskly to the start-- none of my teammates were there. I had only run/walked 4 miles while they did 6-- I had either gotten there before them or so far after them that they were already home, showered, and probably asleep by the time I finished. I stretched a bit, but I didn't hang round too long. I didn't want to answer questions about where I had gone off to during the run.

So, learning time:
NO FOOD. NONE!!! Within one to two hours before running (esp. not greasy, heavy food)
DO NOT START TOO FAST--even if I do want the company of more elite runners. It's just not worth it!
IF SOMETHING IS REALLY GOING WRONG ON A RUN DON'T LISTEN TO LEGS!!! Listen to lungs and slow down.

Coach Randy writes: "We all have bad runs. After a bad run, just tell yourself 'I've logged in my bad run. I'm glad I can check that off my list.'"

OH yeah, I'm checking that one off my list alright.

Tomorrow is my 9 mile in Royal Oak-- no food, just lots and lots of water pre-run (and no fancy organic juice either) I'm also going to will myself to actually start out SLOWER than my normal pace!