I ran a 13.1-mile race today in Central Park without any training to speak of. Ouch. I thought by mile 2 that there was NO WAY I would make it past mile 5. I was tired and sluggish. I was running with a friend who hadn't run in weeks, although she is a former track star who's philosophy about running once was "It's not a good race unless you vomit at the end." Hard core.
So there we were threatening to quit at any moment, but both too stubborn to do so. Every couple of miles we would discuss what part of our body was suddenly in serious pain:
"I seem to have pulled something in my groin area."
"I can feel every woven fiber of cotton in my socks."
"My left knee feels funny."
"I think my right second-toe toenail is ripping off."
"I may actually vomit but not in the 'This was a good race' kind of way."
I came home and ate some carbs, because as I'm sure you all know, it's very important to eat carbs for maximum recovery post strenuous exercise. And by post I mean within 30 to 45 minutes of that exercise. So even though I wanted to pass out, I ate some peanut butter toast. I even managed to be social with some friends before passing out for a couple of hours.
My toenail may in fact fall off as it did several years ago when I was running more distance runs. I'll let you know. Oooo, that's gross.
