Saturday, June 27, 2009
Sick, Fuzzy, Down for the Count
Woah Mama. Gastroenteritis is so fun....
Noah, my five-year-old, gave me a special present: his absolutely VIOLENT stomach virus. I don't need to go into the graphic details (although you all know I'm not above such things) however, suffice to say that my stomach and colon have been cleaned out completely in the last 12 hours.
My last day of work was Wednesday. Childcare ended yesterday, Friday. TWO WHOLE DAYS!!!
Thursday was sort of a wash. It started out great, with a final trip into work to clean out my desk and a fantabulous run, but then I had to get my sweet little son early from daycare because--well--he was puking. From the moment I cleaned up the first pukey mess I began to pray: Just let me get it after my long ride tomorrow. This is a key ride--I have to go--just let me get it after....Please God. Please.
God complied. I made it through my ride on Friday.
But I was not off the hook. Oh no. I had planned to attend a dinner party at one of my good college friend's houses with Andy last night. This woman can host, man. Mojitos, awesome apps, fish tacos.... and best of all, great company. Within a 1/2 hour of arrival I knew I was in trouble, though. There was no powering through it. I had at best 15 minutes before I was going to be talking to God via his porcelain connection.
I grabbed Andy, who at that point didn't realize the gravity of the situation, got a bucket from Court (the bestest hostess), gave my hugs and told my friends to wash everything I had touched really carefully.
I made it down the driveway and into the car before the puking began.
Puking when you're drunk really is the worst. I haven't experienced it for years, but I experienced it plenty as a young lass, and I remember.
Worse, though, is puking when totally sober.
It's especially fun when you're puking up Endurox. I hadn't had much more than PowerBar Endurance, gels, a few bars and Endurox all day, so there wasn't that much that could come up. My stomach was insistent, though, and found a way to allow me to continue puking long after the contents of my stomach should have been empty. And then my colon kicked in to make sure I was completely cleaned out in every way...
Okay. Enough! haha!
And here I said I wasn't going to give the gruesome details! I just couldn't resist.
Anyway, back to the ride and before I got sick...
As you may be aware, it's been raining here in New England--for like forever. When it's not raining it's overcast and muggy. My bike shoes absolutely reek. I have forgotten what it's like to feel sun on my back. I have contemplated creating and marketing glasses that have windshield wipers.
But Friday morning it was NOT raining. The weather called for thunderstorms, but whatever. I could deal with that. I was psyched and ready to roll. Mrs. Zebra was loaded up like a pack horse with drink, gels, bars, phone, money, ID etc. etc. etc. I dressed all in black so I could take on my bad ass persona and match Mrs. Z in style. Life was good. I dropped off the kidlets, explained that if someone was to start, say, puking, they'd have to call Andy, because I was going for a long, long, ride and it would be tough to get back in a timely fashion should such a crisis arise.
The only problem I had was that I was riding alone. For like seven hours. That's kind of a long time. But I do most everything workout-wise alone these days, so I knew I could handle it. The plight of working out alone... Interesting topic for another post.
I had decided to ride to Mt Wachusett, a mountain/national park about 50 miles away. Unfortunately, I've never done that ride, and anyone who knows me knows that this is a problem... I'm just not super when it comes following a cue sheet. Additionally, I didn't have a formal cue sheet, just my own sloppy instructions and my IPhone. The IPhone is awesome--it can get me anywhere. The problem was how much I had to use it. After two hours of riding I had already spent at least 20 minutes off the bike trying to figure out where to turn next, and I was super irritated. Finally I decided that this ride just wasn't going to happen today. I will find a friend who has done that ride and force him/her to go with me to show me the way. Until then...I hightailed it back to an area I know well, and set out to do the remaining 4 hours on the bike.
The route I chose was super hilly. My mph were super slow. And it started to rain. This was no thunderstorm. This was just -- rain. For 2.5 hours straight. I felt so unbelievably pissy--really, it's a blessing I was alone. Additionally, I didn't want to stop at all because I had wasted so much time off pedal early in the ride. Today would be the day I did everything while riding: peeing, refueling, refilling. I even ran a few stoplights so I could keep motoring along.
The good news is that I have discerned that I have no problem peeing on the bike. The key, I discovered, is that you can't be pedaling. You just need to pause and let it go. Another key: pee often. That way you don't have a massive wet that streaks down your legs. Grrrrrossss. As I peed away I couldn't help but think in my mind about how when your baby is little, daycares and doctors refer to peeing etc as BW or SW or BBM or SBM--standing for BIG WET or SMALL WET etc. As I peed I'd thinkto myself, Oh! BIG WET! cause you know--it's a bit like filling a diaper.
God, I'm just gross today, huh?
Interestingly, I never really got super tired. I got bored. I didn't want to be out there anymore. I wanted to go home and take an ice bath and chill. (haha.) But I didn't get tired, really. I felt like if someone had a gun to my head and told me I now had to run a marathon, I could. Somehow I'm going to have to muster up the umph to run that marathon without a gun to my head, though. Maybe I could imagine I have a gun to my head?
I had to spend so long out there to get in my 116 miles that I had to ride straight to daycare to get the kids. (It's up the street from where I live.) I showed up looking just nasty: dirt everywhere, even up my back (remember it rained), sweaty, salty, and just in general looking like I was in dire need of a shower. I walked in with my bike shoes and helmet on and tried not to act as if anything was out of the norm. Surely they had seen a MOM enter in such garb before? And I wonder why I have a reputation in this town as the psycho triathlon mom who abandons her kids to ride, run and swim....