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February 23, 2007
Stage 3: Whatever You Do, Do Not Puke
Route: Tierras Morenas to Rio Chiquito (another village called Rio Chiquito, a different one from that which was passed through during Stage 2)
Estimated Distance: 18k
Let me just preface this entry by saying that this just wasn't my day. It wasn't good, at all. However, I now know exactly why it was a bad day, and I have learned from the experience. And, the day ended much, much better than it started.
I woke up on this morning feeling stiff and shaky. I knew I was stiff from all the running, but I didn't quite know why I was shaky. However, today was a short day, so I knew I would have the majority of the day to recover. I thought to myself, "I run 18k or more on many of my daily training runs at home, this will be easy." I ate the Costa Rica typical breakfast, packed up our camp, and got ready to race. I was excited to leave my Camelbak in my storage box. Today was short enough that I just carried 2 hand water bottles. What a lovely reprieve!
After milling around camp, I was still feeling stiff and my quads were pretty sore, so I decided to go for a warm-up run for about 10 minutes around the village. I still felt all shaky and just not right during this jog, but it really helped loosen my muscles. About 2 minutes before the stage start, in an effort to abate the shakes, I inhaled a Gu, which probably saved me from immanent despair on the course.
Because I didn't quite know what was happening with my body, and because I apparently wasn't thinking quite clearly, I decided I would run this 18k with a stronger effort. Looking back, I have absolutely no idea why I decided to do this. Stage 3 started at 7 am on that oh-so-windy ridgeline with as much gusto as the previous 2 stages. Runners are so happy in the crazy-early morning hours!
There was some gentle climbing from the get-go, and the majority of folks were jogging slowly, as if stiff and sore underfoot. I wonder why! For a few kilometers, I was only a few meters behind the second place woman. After the gentle climb, there were several kilometers of gentle descent. I continued to run hard on this descent, feeling better than I did at the start, and I remained within spitting distance of the second place woman.
Then, I crashed. Within just a few minutes, I went from being a moderately happy camper to a very sick one. Nausea hit me like a brick wall. It then, finally, occurred to me that my electrolytes were all off and they had been all morning. However, I was so nauseous that the last thing I wanted to do was to take in fluid. I slowed down and forced myself to sip fluid ever-so-carefully. It was all I could do to not throw up that liquid, as well as the lovely breakfast I'd eaten earlier. I would heave and feel stuff come up to my throat, and then swallow it back down. I needed those calories and fluids, and I didn't want to lose them! That's rather graphic and disgusting, but it's what happened out there.
I knew I needed to get my digestive system working, to absorb the food and fluid just sitting in my stomach, so I slowed to a walk to allow it to restart itself. After about 5 or 10 minutes of powerwalking, the nasty feelings began to recede. I also went through the stage's only CP during this walking bit, so I refilled my water bottles there. Slowly, slowly, I sipped fluid.
Right then and there, when I felt like I was at the bottom of my proverbial barrel, a woman (the current 5th place female) flew past me like I was standing still. Stupidly and before my stomach was working properly again, I took off after her like a bat out of hell. That didn't last for long (I may have even leapfrogged with her a time or two, but the details here are somewhat fuzzy.), and I slowed back down. However, I was able to at least keep running again. I continued to sip and run, sip and run. I never felt great, in fact I just plain felt lousy, but I was at least moving again.
By this time, the 5th place woman was about a half kilometer in front of me. I could clearly see her and it seemed like I wasn't losing ground on her anymore. My goal for the last several kilometers of the stage was just to keep running and not lose any more time on her. I was in pure, unadulterated survival mode.
Stage 3 finished in a little village called Rio Chiquito after one final, kilometer-long, tormenting climb where you could see the finish the whole way. I used whatever was left in me to push up that hill. I finished the 4th female for the day, about 4 minutes behind the woman who'd passed me, and about 4 minutes in front of the next woman (the current 4th place female). In the end, I still had about a 1 hour cumulative time cushion over both of these 2 women. Thank goodness I survived and didn't lose any cumulative footing in the race.
At this point, I had some serious work to do to recover. I sipped my Ensures, set up camp, and took a quick shower. It was only mid-morning at this point, and I spent the next 3 hours drinking and eating tiny bits at a time. My stomach was fighting this input the whole way. Finally, I gave up trying to eat and drink, and I just layed down in the tent and took a nap. After about an hour of immobility, I finally started to feel better. I returned to the food area, got some food and drink, and brought it back to the tent with me. As I layed there, I ate and drank slowly, and I began to feel like a new person.
In the afternoon, some people were going to take a short hike to a waterfall and swimming hole. I so wanted to go, but I knew I needed to continue the recovery process, so I stayed behind. Once I got control of my stomach/electrolyte/food intake issues, I began to eat and drink like a horse, and I continued to do so for the rest of the day. My body needed it badly!
Next on the recovery list was to work on my sore quads. They were usable, but the downhills were becoming very uncomfortable. There were massage therapists traveling with the race, so I got a massage. For $20, you get "worked on." I had never experienced the type of massage they do, and it was most painful. Basically, the therapist locates the sorest portions of your ailing muscles, and presses a finger or two sharply into those locations. It's intensely painful; lots of people, including me, were yelping and writhing in pain. Then, slowly the discomfort recedes, even though they are still presssing hard. Apparently, the technique is supposed to create endorphin flow through your body, which increases blood flow through and movement of toxins out of your muscles, which speeds muscle-healing time (In the middle of this massage, I couldn't fathom that this technique was actually going to help because it was so-damn painful. However, I'm now a believer because my quads felt like brand-new the next day!). The therapist worked on my quads for almost an hour. Afterwards, she attached electrodes to my quads and I spent 30 minutes having electricity shot through those muscles. Then, finally, I iced my quads for about 15 minutes.
At the end of the day, I was physically and mentally exhausted. Physically exhausted for all the reasons I've belabored in this entry. Mentally exhausted because I'd spent a lot of the day thinking about the race. I worried about the woman who had finished in front of me. I wondered about her race strategy. I pondered my own race strategy as well. As I assessed myself, I was confident that I had made real progression in my physical recovery, and that I'd be able to run strong tomorrow. I reminded myself over and over to run my own race, no matter what happens. I was learning that my strength was in maintaining the same pace, and even increasing my pace, as the race progressed. I needed to stick to this plan.
In the evening, during dinner, we received all of our "Shout Outs" from the last 3 days. I brought my 3-page printout of messages back to my tent and read them by headlamp just before I went to sleep. I had so many messages of support! As I layed there in my tent, I felt a renewed feeling of strength and confidence. I reassessed my race goal, and decided my new goal was to finish in the top 3 women. I went to sleep feeling good and ready to race Stage 4.
Posted by Meghan at February 23, 2007 4:35 PM
Comments
Awesome reading. My stomach even did a fun little flip-flop during the regurge bit...very hardcore!
You gotta love pressure point deep tissue massage...brings tears to the eyes, but SO worth it.
Posted by: chelle at February 24, 2007 12:32 PM
I've had that type of massage too. It hursts SO good. I endure, only because I know in the end, it will all be better. I love the electric stimulation too. It really gets the blood flowing to the area so it can heal and recover. Great entry. I cna't wait for the next stage!
Jenny
Posted by: Jenny at February 24, 2007 2:55 PM
I hate deep-tissue! Arg! I know I have to have it sometimes, but I can't say it hurts-so-good. It just hurts very bad.
The therapist I use doesn't hurt me so bad. She backs off just enough - kind of midway between Swedish and Deep-Tissue. THAT I can tolerate!
Great writing. Much to learn.
I too am good at pace. I'm old, so getting passed by women and small rodents doesn't bother me. And most of my races have two or three distances, so I always remind myself that I have to run "my race". I usually start passing people at the half-way point.
Posted by: JeffO at February 26, 2007 1:06 PM
Oh, I am an expert on the "projectile vomit show" Did it 14 times at Western States 100 last year. Six times at Where's Waldo 100k. But you are right, can't drive the car without gas in the tank. Need those calories. That is what I was saying all night long at States.
I do have to say the massage sounds painful, ouch. But well worth it in the end.
tom
Posted by: tom riley at February 27, 2007 11:03 AM