Back on the Streets Again

And on the trails, and on the dreadmill, yada yada yada.

That is, I've been running again since July of last year, and I had planned to do the Jerusalem Half Marathon on K's birthday, 27 March.

Then I got out of training properly and gave up on the idea.

Then I finished my class and made it back to the gym and onto the dreadmill again.

Then there was this woman from work two dreadmills away from me last Wednesday, and we we running up a storm. In the locker room later, she said she wanted to do the half marathon.

I told her to be really careful, because she didn't have her mileage up to a point where training would necessarily be safe -- because this would be her first half marathon, and she has no idea how to train for it properly.

But she got me thinking... and jealous. 'Cause I never stopped wanting to run half marys, but when I let my weight balloom up exponentially, I knew I couldn't do one at that point.

So on the way home that night, I figured out a pretty safe training plan to get me through the four weeks between then and the event itself. I decided I'd hit the outdoor trail at the park on Friday morning and see how it went. I needed to see if my bones, ligaments and tendons were up to the task.

As it turns out, they are. My quads aren't so hip on the Jerusalem hills, but that's workable.

So today, before I could chicken out, I registered and paid my 110 shekels. Yep, it's official -- I'm planning on doing it.

Then this evening was gym day, so I hit the dreadmill after work. And since last week I did 9.5 kilometers in 75 minutes, somehow in my twisted, tiny little brain, I decided that this week I could do 10 kilometers in that much time.

Not my brightest moment.

I did it, and I did well.

But my second not brightest moment came after I ate all the wrong things as my "recovery" food (the best is to eat a 3:1 or 4:1 ratio of simple carbs to protein)... carrots, cucumbers, red peppers, crackers, low-fat cheese, and dried apricots.

And a few minutes later, the nausea hit.

I've run myself nauseous before... that is, I've left the gym feeling a bit queasy, but by the time I got home, I was fine.

This time, I ended up curled over my desk at work for 20 minutes, followed by laying on the floor for 20 minutes, before finally feeling good enough to go to the bathroom -- and ended up puking anyway. Go figure. Next time, I'll try to remember to save myself the 40 minutes and just try to get it over with.

I hung out another 15 minutes or so, waiting to see if I'd need to do it again... and I decided I felt well enough to get out of that place.

But the problem was this -- how to get home?

I knew there was no way I could take a bus -- blah.

I was afraid to take a cab, 'cause cab drivers are crazy drivers.

So I decided to just go ahead and walk, like I usually do.

Except that instead of it taking me 35 minutes to get home, it took me almost 60. I had to walk SOOOOOO slowly. I had to stop to sit on a bench. I had to stop to let my tummy settle about 15 times, especially on the 170 stairs I had to climb.

But I made it home.

And thankfully, I had yummy turkey soup leftover from Shabbat, so that's what I had for dinner, after my tummy settled down enough to eat.

Now I have to do some research and see if I can figure out exactly what caused the problem. I know many runners end up puking, but since it's never happened to me before, I'd like to see if I can avoid it happening again.

Especially since I've already paid my money for this half marathon... so it means I have to be back on the dreadmill on Wednesday.

Maybe I'll cut back to 9.5K again :)