The Just Plain Ugly:
Dehydration. I am not an athlete – not even close. I suffer from Adult-Onset-Athleticism and the effects of working with a trainer (Rick, Rick, Rick) who is part miracle worker and part Jedi Mind Trick Master. I have dealt with a weight problem, low-self esteem, depression and other demons virtually my whole life. It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I started feeling very Lara Croft Tomb Raider and decided to give this whole racing thing a shot as a hobby. A very demanding, time-consuming hobby.
That said, I have had a fortuitous intro into running and multi-sport events. I have read soooo many race reports about professional-level athletes who bonk; fail miserably; have hellacious race experiences; and generally crap out despite their life-long training and God-given abilities (and perhaps, HGH in some cases). Total racing horror stories.
Yet, I have been so blessed as to only experience minor racing discomforts (a minor injury here; the humiliating sound of my flabby thighs slapping together at top speeds; a heart rate that surpasses 190) and a ton of small victories over the past two years. I am 41 and could still stand to trade in 15 pounds of flab for more muscle, but nothing remotely horrific has happened to me on race day. Until Saturday.
Dehydration is one of the worst enemies of a runner or endurance athlete. Runners are told that once you feel thirsty, your body is already dehydrated. Dehydration can hospitalize your ass and possibly kill you.
Well, guess what I felt standing in the starting corral 10 minutes before the race start? Thirst and dry mouth. As I keep myself on the hydrated-plus side, this was a discomfort that I thought would be assuaged at the water station at mile 1.
We went out harder and faster than planned for mile 1. We might have been at a 7:57 pace – nothing that should have made me feel as crappy as I felt after mile 1. I wasn’t very pleased with my body, but I was determined to finish and thought a few ounces of water would fix everything.
By the time you feel thirsty, you’re already dehydrated…
Guess what I drank the entire trip to Pendleton? Coffee. What does coffee do other than possibly act as a performance enhancer? Dehydrate you!!! Guess who gave that no freakin’ thought whatsoever as she discarded her Arrowhead water in favor of coffee? Guess who was more freaked out about having to take a whiz on the race course, having to use stinky porta-potties and experiencing that oh-so uncomfortable sloshing feeling one can get from running with too much in the tummy? Guess who thought she thought she had her crapola nailed down by eating a relatively healthy pre-race dinner of scallops and rice and a breakfast of half a peanut butter sandwich sans a healthy dose of H20?
After mile 1, I’m having difficulty breathing and filling my lungs with air. I develop a side stitch – something that I have only felt once or twice before a couple years ago and sucks butt. The stitch eventually dissipates, but then the huge bloaty, uncomfortable pain sets in between my sternum and gut. I’ve become the turtle of team of jackrabbits which has the potential to humiliate the crap out of me, but I believe I will recover and finish after some walk breaks.
By the time you feel thirsty, it’s too freakin’ late . . .
Somewhere on a hill around mile 2.25 I start suspecting that dehydration could be the culprit to my sorry-ass performance. Again, I know I will finish. I put it out of my mind and try to walk it off. A quarter mile later – I experience one of the worst feelings a runner can have in 70+ degree heat – shuddering chills – and the realization that I’m not sweating as much as I normally do. Hell No! I’m not gonna be one of those sad sacks that gets carted down the hill in an ambulance. Cute Marines or not! I will not not finish a race! But I know this could be bad for me. Really bad. To my ever-growing disappointment, I take yet another walk break. And I tell no one about this except Gary . . . on the way home.
By the time you feel thirsty … You know happens to your heart rate when your body is dehydrated? It SKYROCKETS because it has to work harder to do even the simplest things. Dehydration can cause kidney and heart failure. Dehydration can lead to death. And if you live to tell the tale - the dehydration headache will be tougher and nastier than an overly-hilly race course. Trust me on this. The pain drove me to tears last night.
Showing posts with label mud runs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mud runs. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Camp Pendleton Mud Run - The Bad
The Bad:
The Hills to Mud Ratio. Was it the weakened economy that precluded Camp Pendleton from making more mud or the rabid environmentalists that don’t let anyone have any fun anymore?
All week long, I read blog after endless blog (like mine) about the race and the inconviences of stinky, oozy, mossy mud that gets in places mud doesn’t remotely belong. About how freakin’ well-conditioned you have to be to squat-walk through small tunnels; run through a tire obstacle; hurdle 5’ walls and run with 10 pounds of mud clinging to your shoes and body with a Marine hurling insults at you; and getting hosed down steep hills by fire hoses. So what, I said. I’m gonna have fun!
But very few of these blogs focused on the endless amount of hills; their proximity to the sun; their grades and how much the course and topo maps LIED!!!! It’s a real hoot when those adorable course marshals tell you that you’re climbing up the course’s last hill, when alas it turns out, the steepest, gnarliest m-fers are still ahead of you and waiting to test your mettle, lungs, quads, glutes and calves.
When I enter a race called the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, I want mud and Marines (the two finest selling points for a female runner)! EVERYWHERE! Don’t let those PETA-like, rabid environmentalists dictate that Camp Pendleton use Super Soakers instead of bona-fide-tear-your-skin-off-fire hoses! Mother Earth and her runners want water and mud – especially while the earth and its inhabitants are microwaving themselves! This event occurs only 3 times a year – the earth will not dehydrate because Camp Pendleton wants to raise money for the people who would give their lives for us! And Mr. Obama, could you please return our Marines in time for 2010 Hard Corps Race Series?
Racing with Your Trainer: Your trainer 10 years your junior bounds up hills ceaselessly energetic like a mountain goat – even late in the race – as your well-conditioned legs and lungs want to call it a day. At mile 1.5.
The Hills to Mud Ratio. Was it the weakened economy that precluded Camp Pendleton from making more mud or the rabid environmentalists that don’t let anyone have any fun anymore?
All week long, I read blog after endless blog (like mine) about the race and the inconviences of stinky, oozy, mossy mud that gets in places mud doesn’t remotely belong. About how freakin’ well-conditioned you have to be to squat-walk through small tunnels; run through a tire obstacle; hurdle 5’ walls and run with 10 pounds of mud clinging to your shoes and body with a Marine hurling insults at you; and getting hosed down steep hills by fire hoses. So what, I said. I’m gonna have fun!
But very few of these blogs focused on the endless amount of hills; their proximity to the sun; their grades and how much the course and topo maps LIED!!!! It’s a real hoot when those adorable course marshals tell you that you’re climbing up the course’s last hill, when alas it turns out, the steepest, gnarliest m-fers are still ahead of you and waiting to test your mettle, lungs, quads, glutes and calves.
When I enter a race called the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, I want mud and Marines (the two finest selling points for a female runner)! EVERYWHERE! Don’t let those PETA-like, rabid environmentalists dictate that Camp Pendleton use Super Soakers instead of bona-fide-tear-your-skin-off-fire hoses! Mother Earth and her runners want water and mud – especially while the earth and its inhabitants are microwaving themselves! This event occurs only 3 times a year – the earth will not dehydrate because Camp Pendleton wants to raise money for the people who would give their lives for us! And Mr. Obama, could you please return our Marines in time for 2010 Hard Corps Race Series?
Racing with Your Trainer: Your trainer 10 years your junior bounds up hills ceaselessly energetic like a mountain goat – even late in the race – as your well-conditioned legs and lungs want to call it a day. At mile 1.5.
Douche-bag Behavior: The USMC informs you that the race starts at 9 a.m. – a very, very civilized race start. What kind of an a-hole are you that you show up nearly an hour late; shove your way through the team runners THAT GOT THERE ON TIME during the National Anthem on a Marine base and DELAY the team start?
And what kind of jerk-off are you that steals an Under Armour cap?!?
Douche-Bag Behavior (mine): Bypassing the HUGE lines of patient, deserving post-race runners waiting for those heavenly, cold showers by exploiting lemming-like tendencies and a minor logistical shower flaw – entering on the unused, opposite side of the showers. I told myself that I was entitled as it was my personal revenge for those stupid, disrespectful m-fers mentioned above.
And what kind of jerk-off are you that steals an Under Armour cap?!?
Douche-Bag Behavior (mine): Bypassing the HUGE lines of patient, deserving post-race runners waiting for those heavenly, cold showers by exploiting lemming-like tendencies and a minor logistical shower flaw – entering on the unused, opposite side of the showers. I told myself that I was entitled as it was my personal revenge for those stupid, disrespectful m-fers mentioned above.
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