Well, my fifth Uwharrie was perhaps my slowest, but that's fine. I'm just happy to still be able to get out there and finish 20 miles in a place like Uwharrie. I'm not racing much these days, so the blogging has slowed down as well. Besides, my races aren't really that interesting unless things go horribly wrong.
|Starting hill conga line. Fun!|
Speaking of races going horribly wrong, let's talk about today! After 5 miles, some horrible switch flipped in my stomach and gave me severe gastro distress. I thought seriously about dropping out of the race after 8 miles, but I soldiered on, because I'm stupid that way.
I spent the final 15 miles trying to get my stomach to stop cramping. The bloating was so bad, I swear I looked pregnant by the end of the race. No amount of burping or farting seemed to release the pressure. I must have generated some significant green house gases today, mostly in the form of burps. My apologies, Al Gore!
|Uwharrie is always beautiful.|
I can hear you now. "Well, did you try this or that or some other magic trick that always works on my cousin Susie?" Yes. Yes, I did.
I tried running faster. I tried running slower (walking, then stopping and sitting). I tried drinking water. I tried drinking Coke. I tried eating some salty soup broth. I tried eating potato chips. I tried eating some salty chocolate (OK, I just wanted that because salty chocolate is food of the gods!). I tried Gatorade. I tried Heed. I tried some medicinal liquid that vaguely resembled vodka (thanks, Heather!). That made me feel better for about 1 mile, but then the endless burping continued. I tried holding my breath (this was stupid and resulted in me nearly passing out and falling down). I tried belly breathing. I tried chest breathing. I tried short steps. I tried long steps. I tried, and I failed to stop the burping.
15 terrible bile burping miles.
30 minutes after finishing the race, my stomach finally settled. Figures.