I have never been so glad to be done with a race in my entire life.

Following the conclusion of the race, I kept running, and ran directly into the medical tent, where I calmly informed the EMT that I needed fluids.

Here’s how it went down. 

Saturday morning, I woke up around 5 with a stomachache.  SHOOT!  So I ran down to the car, grabbed some Tums and a Prilosec, and waited for them to kick in.  They kinda seemed to, and by the time we’d made our way to a very chilly start line, I decided that I felt okay.  And off we went.

It was cold, but not unbearably so.  I’d dressed perfectly. A thin, long-sleeved Brooks top, a Brooks Nightlife Vest, stuffed to the gills with goodies, gloves, and 3/4ths tights.  On the feet were the Glycerin 11 (an excellent choice of a shoe), and some Smartwool socks.  When it felt like my hands were going to fall off, I palmed my boobs under the vest, and as silly as it seems, the warmth made the ride really comfortable.

I stuck to the plan.  About 6.5 miles in, I started with my first bit of nutrition, and the nagging tummy ache that had been bothering me started to flare up.  I tried everything to push it away.  I breathed the cool, fresh fall air.  I house shopped.  I focused on music.  But it wouldn’t leave.  By the time another 6 had passed, and it was time for more nutrition, I couldn’t do it.  I nibbled at another piece of Clif Shot Bloks, and the stomachache started up, worse than before.

15 Miles.

The stomachache was too real.  Katy Perry came on with ‘Roar’.  And I dissolved into tears.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever shared this, but I get hyper-emotional during races.  It’s an introspective period of time, and the thought of the message of the song, the stomach pain, and the fact that I was over halfway in the race got to me.  Get it together, Cheri.  Someone is going to see you crying and think something is really wrong. 

18.1 Miles.

I literally pulled over in a field, and the stomachache was just too much.  I barfed in a field.  Everything I’d eaten, all the water, and all the nutrition was gone.  A cop looked on, sorrowfully.  But I couldn’t give it up, I was only like 8 miles from the finish!

So I knew that I’d lost all my nutrition and all my water.  And the thought of eating was producing more vomit.  So I kept up with my water, and trudged through the last bit of the marathon.

I did it. 

It was abysmally slow.  I was a little sunburned.  But I did it, run-walking that last 8 miles or so.  Once I finished, I med-tented, explained to them what had happened, and let them check my levels.  I was fine, understandably a little dehydrated, and not feeling like eating ever again.

I finished.  I’m a two-time marathoner!! And upon an appointment with a gastro, I am totally ready for the next running adventure.