My Sweet New Kicks!
So...about that run today. The run itself was surprisingly good, despite having run 8 miles yesterday, and mind you, D and I JUST returned from our gastronomic, non-running honeymoon to Spain and Portugal a mere two days ago, so I was kind've pushing it today, and unsure whether or not adding so much mileage after twelve days off was really a good idea. Um. It wasn't. It was in no way, shape, or form, a good idea. Again- felt totally fine afterwards (and pretty badass)...until I got home. I'm not really one to eat much after my long runs-- I'm just usually not hungry for an hour or so, at which point, I become famished and will eat your hand and all of your belongings if you're not careful. (Oh. Cannabailism jokes are probably a bit gauche right now, what with the bathsalt/zombie apocalypse right now. Oh well.) Anyways, I'm trying to get better at timing my nutritional/water/gatorade intake for this marathon, so I forced myself to eat some leftover grilled chicken within minutes of walking in the door. BIG MISTAKE. Within minutes, that chicken decided to make a second appearance, and violently so. I have never thrown up after running before (believe it or not), nor have I been that nauseous and vomity for years. And then I drank some ginger ale (you know, because it's supposed to be good in your stomach) and then it happened again. This time I barely made it to the bathroom. It. Was. Horrible. And in direct contrast to the sexiness of my new shoes. And then I took a nap and laid on the couch for two hours, finally feeling better by four p.m. Now I'm fine, if not a bit tired from the whole ordeal, but I'm still not really sure what did it: was it too much too soon? Eating too quickly? Dehydration? Overhydration? Or simply an extremely unpleasant reminder of what a slacker I'd been in the twelve days previous? Whichever it was, I hope it never happens again. YUCK.
I think I'll take tomorrow off.