I kept it quiet, but I started feeling sick a couple of days ago. I kept hoping I would feel better but unfortunately I was only getting worse. No miracles when I woke up this morning and I tried to get in a mindset to tough it out and hope things turned around. I balanced this with keeping in mind that it might not go so well. Unfortunately, the latter case scenario happened.
I toed the line and a shotgun blast sent us on our way. As far as pace was concerned, the first four miles were going as planned (6:39, 6:48, 6:48, 6:46). However, it was WAY more work than it should have been. I was struggling to hit those times when in training it was a breeze.
I backed off a little, watching with dismay as a group of a dozen or so runners I was with who were keeping the sub-3 pace got further and further ahead. I ran with two other guys who were cheery and encouraging, but I told them I wasn't feeling well. They were great, trying to pep me up and keep me going, and I really appreciated it but this was a physical issue and not a mental one. They also eventually passed and moved up ahead.
A series of steeper uphills now and they also seemed like more work than they should have. Normally I would be able to cruise up these, but nothing doing. I knew I was in real trouble. I held hope that I would maybe feel better on the downhills, but the power of positive thinking here had about as much affect as trying to take down an elephant with a BB gun.
Jim D. had been riding his road bike alongside me for a while now as well and I told him how I was feeling. I can't remember when exactly, but a few miles before I DNF'd I told him to let Kate, Ryan, Mindy and Chuck of my plans to drop if I wasn't feeling better on the downhills. Jim went on ahead to meet them down the course.
I reached mile 10 and soon after the steep downhills began. So did the vomiting. I vurped once at first. No big deal. Then the stomach really had enough and I full-on projectile vomited. I tried to keep running, but another contraction seized me in my tracks and I ralphed again. I thought my stomach was empty but up came another huge gastro-geiser. Frustrated, I cursed out loud quite a few times.
Stomach empty now so I kept running but the decision was made to drop out when I would see the gang next. They were waiting for me at Mile 12 and after looking at me, there was no protest about my decision. They all said I looked like crap; face pale and green and dark circles under my eyes or something like that. That actually made me feel good, as it validated how I was feeling. If I'm going to feel like shit, I want to look like shit to match.
Fortunately, the condo we were staying at was close by. We went there and I had some soup. We all chit-chatted for a bit before driving home. It really sucks when friends go out of their way to cheer you on and something like this happens. I know they understand, but I still feel bad.
So, now I'm home and resting. Thinking of calling out sick at work tomorrow. Just going to rest up before I decide what to do next.
Ran 12.0 miles @ 6:57/mile pace.
Upper 50s to lower 70s, sunny.
Saucony Kinvara 2, shorts, singlet.