Notice I am writing this in a brown font. To match my thoughts of hurling.
I'll back up.
As I mentioned yesterday (actually earlier this morning), I've not been running as frequently because it is just RIDICULOUSLY cold and windy (I can do a wind chill of 17, I can... but not for days at a time. It gets old). I am ready for spring. Ahem. I said:
"I am ready for spring!!"
Darnit. Still nothing. I've got to start going to church. I just have absolutely no influence.
Anyway, I flew down to
sunny, warm Florida this morning, where it is in the 40s/50s during the day and 30s at night, for our company sales meeting. Upon my arrival at the hotel, I ran into a customer from Brazil and made dinner plans with her for later in the evening.
I had time after my flight arrived to squeeze in 13 miles, which ideally should have been 24 miles yesterday in preparation for Sunday's Disney marathon, which I'm squeezing in while I'm down here for the sales meeting. Why not? I figured. I'm here, the marathon's here,... what the heck?
I was sluggish and crampy (I NEVER have running cramps) and had to stop a few times while running the 13 miles. I felt like crap, which I attributed to my having gone a few days here and there without running.
I got back to the hotel, stretched, showered, and called my customer to meet.
Then it hit me.
Nausea. Sweats. Ugh.
Usually I need to eat within a 1/2 hour to an hour after a long run to prevent nausea (your body needs to refuel asap), but 13 miles isn't usually long enough to give me this issue.
duh, funny runner. I hadn't eaten anything since before my flight this morning (and that was an omelet with spinach and broccoli and ham and only a few measley home fries as carbs). 10 hours since my last meal + 13-mile run = bimbo. Not only did I not eat anything immediately after my run (no mini bar in the room. wtf?), but it had been 10 hours since I had eaten anything at all.
I would now pay for my utter stupidity.
(insert sardonic laugh here).
I sucked it up and told myself that, as soon as I ate something, I would feel infinitely better.
I took the elevator downstairs, walked over to the sushi bar where I was supposed to meet my customer, and found some other colleagues. As I started to speak to them, it hit me.
A horrible wave of nausea. Boom. Just like that.
I discovered that the sushi bar was just a bar bar now and that the sushi was now in the restaurant about 200 feet from where I was standing. Two problems.
1. I could not stand up much longer, smiling and chatting with my colleagues, let alone entertain the thought of walking 200 more feet before I was able to collapse into a chair.
2. I was breaking out in a sweat and feeling more and more like hurling while trying to smile.
I hastily asked my coworkers if they could direct my customer where I would be waiting in the restaurant, hopefully sitting down with a gingerale and not puking under the table.
Pull yourself together, funny runner. This is your biggest customer. You did this to yourself, so suck it up and be a big girl.
I got to the restaurant. The hostess, who looked like she was about 10, seemed alarmed at the rate at which I needed to sit down. She intelligently didn't mess with me.
I actually felt much better after I sat down. My customer found me and sat down with me.
I ordered a gingerale. This might be okay now...
And then I didn't feel so much better again.
I confessed my bimbo chain of events and their effects on my stomach and sweat glands. She was very understanding and rode the waiter to get the food out there asap while I got greener. I felt better, and then worse.
This was just not good. I felt so rude.
The sushi finally came and I ate a couple of pieces, hoping it would go directly to my blood stream and perform a miracle in allowing me to continue to have a discussioon with my poor customer that wasn't centered around whether I thought I was going to need a trash can now or in a few minutes....
It worked for a few minutes, if only in my head, and then I needed a bathroom.
I needed a bathroom RIGHT THEN AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
I excused myself as politely and apologetically as I possibly could and got to my room as quickly as humanly possible, where I did indeed visit the bathroom and then collapsed in shame and embarrassment. Not only did I leave my customer stranded in the middle of the hotel restaurant, it hit me when I got back to my room that I stuck her with the bill!!
So let this be a lesson to y'all: If you're going to completely neglect your nourishment before, during, and after a long run, stick someone you don't like with the bill.