The short version: Indian food + running = run of death.
The long version: So, some of you read my blog pretty regularly and know that I have really been enjoying my runs. Sure, the heat of the Arizona summer was a bit much, but other than that, I have not minded this whole marathon training process too much.
Tonight, all of that changed. Seeing as how I am both training for a marathon and doing Weight Watchers, I plan my days out pretty carefully. If I want to go out to eat with friends, I need to know where we are going in advance and what time so I can make sure that a) I know what my food options are and what to eat during the day, pre-going out to eat and b) I know when I am going to fit in my run or cross-training.
Like yesterday, for instance, I knew that some guys from my church (aka home teachers) were coming over at 8 pm, so running needed to happen right after work so that I could eat before they came over, which meant running happened on a treadmill at club 24 (aka 24 hour fitness) because at 4:45 pm on Tuesday it was a gajillion degrees outside and there was no way in hell (and that’s what it would have felt like), after the Arizona Experience (remember the one involving me and the Circle K), that I was going to run in 95 degree weather.
Well, today the plan was the opposite of yesterday. Sarah and I had talked about going to Bombay House this week (we’re both big fans of Indian food) and so we decided on Wednesday (today). I planned my day accordingly. Eat a light breakfast and light lunch, head over to Bombay at 6, done by 7, then home to hang out for a bit and watch SYTYCD (the only t.v. show I watch these days…speaking of, I have to admit that I was in love with Pasha tonight) and at 9, go running. This would give my food two hours to settle, and I figured I would be fine to run four miles. I mean, I did nine on Saturday with no problems. And since I didn’t end up leaving my house until almost 10, I was even more sure that I wouldn’t have any problems. Oh, I have been wrong about a few things in my life, but rarely more so than I was about this run this night.
For the first time ever, I puked after running. It was miserable. I had a cramp in my side from take off to touch down. My chest felt like fire was raging inside of it. My knees were were screamin. Every part of me, including the food in my stomach, was begging me to stop. Did I stop? Of course not. I am on a schedule and no one (including my digestive tract) is going to mess with that schedule, dammit. The worst part was I knew, somewhere deep down, that I was going to throw up , and even that didn’t stop me.
The coconut kurma, peshawari and endless Diet Coke all tasted so good going in, along with the few bites of Richard (he ended up joining us) and Sarah’s entrées. If only I had known how awful they would make me feel later on. And, while I am aware that DC is bad for me on multiple levels, especially when training for a marathon, you try starting Weight Watchers and training for a marathon in the same week and see if you can give it up (or whatever your particular vice may be). Anyway, you anti-soda people will all be happy to know that I regretted every last sip of that damned Diet Coke. Never again will I be so stupid.
Oh, I’d like to ask you to please excuse the swearing. I mean, I swear frequently enough in real life (another vice – but I generally keep it to the “biblical terms”), but rarely in writing, especially on the blog. But, as long as we’re on the subject, do you know what the difference is between driving up a hill and running up it (besides the fact that one involves a car)? About 25 minutes and an endless stream of profanities spewing forth from deep within my soul.
And on that note, let me leave you with a quote that I came across today:
P.S. I thought about posting some choice pictures for wordless wednesday and leaving it at that, but somehow I didn’t think anyone would really appreciate them…plus, I didn’t actually take said choice pictures. Think about it.