Dry Heaves 5K

It's a shame no one has sponsored a race by this name. Here are the entry qualifications:

• violent food poisoning the night before the race
• sleep must only be intermittent and/or on the bathroom floor
• fits of nausea while driving to the race the next morning
• delusional stubbornness about dropping out of races

Essex Junction Recreation and Parks held a Father's Day 5K yesterday, and I had long ago planned to run it with Liz and her cousin Steve, visiting from out of town. The night before, we had dinner with Maria, and I couldn't decide between a burger or fish. Sadly, I chose the fish. I woke up disoriented and severely uncomfortable in the middle of the night, and many hours of GI distress ensued.

I couldn't bring myself to eat anything Sunday morning, having 'given back' everything I'd eaten for dinner. I was feeling steadier by the time I needed to leave my house, so I figured I'd drive into Essex and see how it went. At the start line I was wobbly, but I was also thinking, "It's a 5K! A 1/2 hour out of your life, a mere 3 miles. Take it easy and you'll be fine."

Heading up the first, fairly respectable hill, every burp tasted like vomit and I stopped several times thinking I might blow chunks, but I couldn't actually manage to throw up anything. This continued for 3.1 miles, about 36 minutes. By the end of the race, it was just me and a really nice couple who were vying for last place, so at least there wasn't much of an audience for my misery.

At one point, doubled over in discomfort, a very supportive older man said, "Just one foot after the other, don't give up!" I wanted to be gracious -- his comment is the kind of supportive spirit you want runners to give each other, especially in a little community 5K. But what I wanted to holler was, "Dude, you have NO idea...!"

I tried walking a bit to settle my stomach. That didn't work so I tried running really, really hard, as if to say, "Hey stomach! Put up or shut up!" But that just led to more dry heaves. I sulked to the finish line, wanting only to preserve my pride by beating the nice couple I mentioned earlier.

I spent the rest of the day half-asleep on the couch, fan whirring, blinds drawn and watching The Real Housewives of New York City, if only to remind myself that there are people out there more miserable than I felt.