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Run till you puke

Always heard that gem of running advice.  Well, I’m here to tell you all about it…  Right down to that last little chunk that finally gushed forth allowing me to move again. Nothing like being doubled over in public next to other collapsed runners, heaving my guts out, shaking uncontrollably, mucous streaming from both nostrils, tears splashing down my cheeks, frantic bystanders, clearly worried, desperately looking for medical assistance.

I was ready for the marathon; I trained hard, even kept on a healthy diet.  The day started with being the first one in Braintree to meet the bus.  As the time inched toward 8:30 all passengers were accounted for.  The trip out to Hopkinton went by quickly.  I was seated up front with Sue Simmons and two other gorgeous women that like an awkward teenager at a school dance, I forgot their names!  Not only them, but there where 5 or 6 more in back I was to shy too talk to with.  You know, I'm a recently divorced guy on the rebound, and this seating arrangement had me tongue tied! Getting back to chatting it up with the fairer sex is going take more training than this marathon!  I love the Colonial Road Runners Club; where else do you get to hang out with scantly clad beautiful women!  Amen. Soon we were camped out in the parking lot with two hours to kill.  A few reconnaissance laps around the crowd of 22 thousand plus was quite a treat.  I really looked forward to having some fun this day.

The first wave takes off amid the din of the helicopters. The second wave begins to move to the start.  I queue up with the other folks wearing numbers 19000+ and we wait. The mass of human’s inch forward and we’re running. The day starts cloudy and cold but as we begin to move the sun reveals itself and soon I’ve got my shirt off enjoying the warm air and energy of the emotional crowds. I’m running my self appointed leisurely pace of ten minute miles.  I’m taken aback and totally floored by the crowds.  19,000 runners have already passed by and still the crowds cheer enthusiastically.  Amazing 

Let’s get to the puking part

I’m on my pace through 15 enjoying the vibe, feeling great, feeding off the crowd’s energy and for some reason still unclear I see a young girl, couldn’t be more than 7 years old, holding out an orange slice.   There were hundreds of people holding out everything imaginable for the runners to partake, but I just saw this girl and greatly accepted her offering.  Now I’m not saying that was the problem but by mile eighteen I felt like I was being eviscerated with an old rusty knife and by mile twenty two I’m on my knees in the drugstore parking lot in Cleveland Circle desperately trying to extract the venom that had a hold on me. 

Now a sane person would have called it a day.

I lurched to my feet, wiped my mouth and runny nose with the back of my sweaty hand, swaying gently, took a moment to focus and fell in with the other walking wounded still an hour away from the finish.  Can’t say as I remember much, the only way I could stop the world from spinning wildly was to stagger on with my eyes closed like some B movie zombie with what felt like a stomach full of ground glass, topped off with the gritty acrid taste of hot bile in my mouth.