Water, water everywhere/Nor any drop to drink.

FIRST GIVEAWAY!!!

This giveaway is twofold-one prize goes to the first person who can correctly identify where the title quote comes from WITHOUT googling it.

One prize goes to the person who identifies it correctly, whether or not they have to look it up.

To participate, click on the little envelope at the bottom right of this post and email me at sickinmadrid@yahoo.com with your answer. I'm too inept to figure out how to hide the comments while still making it possible for you to comment, so I've left the comment section available if you'd like to comment on the post. I like to make things as complicated as possible.

Prizes TBA.

Last week I mentioned briefly that I was severely dehydrated and not yet prepared to discuss the situation. Now that I've had some distance from the episode-and the toilet-I can reflect and learn from what happened.

In the same post, I mentioned that Cameron was sick last Monday. As such, I took care of him and neglected to take care of myself (cue the tiny violins). I ate a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast. I had one glass of water and one cup of coffee, and that was it. So when Jay came home at 5 and suggested that I go for my 12 mile run then, I should have known better.

Neglecting my better judgement, I went anyway.

The run took fooooooorrrrrreeeeevvvveeeerrrrr, as my pace was a minute and a half slower than my average race pace. That may not seem significant, but all told the run took about 20 minutes longer than it should and in that heat, 20 minutes seemed like a lifetime. The last six miles were on the new portion of the Swamp Rabbit Trail, which though awesome, is without water fountains. Ironically, the trail follows the Reedy River, and there were plenty of folks out with water bottles, and I was sweating profusely, so there was water, water everywhere...just no water for me to drink. When I finally finished, I located a water fountain at Spill the Beans and had about 12 Solo cups full of water. Bad idea, I know, but I just couldn't stop.

After making dinner and getting everyone in bed(Jay did most of this, to be fair), I sat down on the sofa with what felt like a raging hangover. Anyone who's ever had one of those-and there may be one or two of you out there-can relate...head between your knees, loud, obnoxious mouth breathing where you're thinking any number of mantras from "Why did I do this" to "I'll never do this again" to "Please, please don't throw up" when all of a sudden you realize you're in flight towards the bathroom, where the inevitable happens. Again. And again. And again.

As Tommy said, I was literally gutting it out. And it was not pretty.

I wish I could say that I will do everything right from here on out, from properly fueling and hydrating pre and post run, to sufficient stretching, to adequate rest. But I probably won't. I'll do my best, though, and it will certainly be better than last Monday. Hydration and nutrition are no joke, nor is the heat. Nor is twelve miles. I can't take any of these factors for granted-I know this!

And if I didn't, the time I spent gutting it out was reminder enough.