Hippie Chick

Well what a hard fought medal I earned at the Hippie Chick Half Marathon.
The race is a repeated 7 mile loop around Champoeg Park. Beth and I were completely pumped up for the race day – it was beautiful – we were geared up and ready to go.
The first loop went well, we were beating our targeted walking pace of 16.5 minutes miles rather easily the whole first loop. (I'd like to walk a 15 minute mile and be able to do it for 10 miles eventually).
Something changed after the first loop though. I was overtaken by a wave a nausea. You know that feeling you get when you are dizzy, sick and your upper lip is sweating right before you need to hurl? that's how I felt. I kept having to stop and put my head down. I really wanted to just sit down. I was completely mortified at the thought of not finishing though and assumed I had been overtaken by some sort of wave of wussy-ness. By mile 10 I told Beth that dammit, I wish I would just throw up and get it over with – about 30 seconds before I did just that. Many times. and Splashed on the $90 running shoes.
Although I then felt better for the next mile or so – finishing the race was physically one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I felt awful. In my head (I basically wasn't speaking at this point, just trying to get through it) I kept telling myself, that I delivered two large children naturally that had to be harder, right? and I got thorugh it, right? but I didn't remember it feeling as awful as this. At least then I could rest between contractions. And sit down. (I'm sure the 7 years of time since I have been through that experience, and the beautiful outcome of that project has fuzzied the pain from my memory).
After crossing the finish line – I climbed into the hotel van waiting for us and couldn't say a word. I didn't even want to walk the 25 feet extra to pick up my medal – but Beth, the world's best training buddy got mine for me.
I waited until I was alone with Beth to start balling. Then I called my husband looking for sympathy and kudos for finishing and to express my bafflement at what had happened. This is when I learned my son had been up all night with the stomach flu and learned I was in fact sick. (I spent the rest of the day and most of the next in bed with stomach probs)
I'm proud of the medal, but looking at it and my race number still make me shudder. Beth and I are going to repeat the distance, hopefully without the puking, mid June, just to prove to myself I can do it without being debilitated.