|My fabulous van mates and I at the start- look at that gorgeous sky! (The team wore hot pink, then neon yellow and finally orange for our last leg.)|
Legs 1-6 were the shorter legs for Van #1, so we didn't have much time to get to the #6 exchange. Jen was ready and did really well in her 4 mile leg. Then it was my turn. 8 miles in the high noon sun and 90% humidity. Apparently I started at a Macy's. When the eff was that? Don't remember it. Maybe that was the heatstroke wiping out my memory. The course was on busy highways and exit ramps. I took a couple of photos while on an overpass. (Of course those are on my son's phone right now.) At one point I asked a guy (passing me, creating a "kill" for him, the douche) if the road we were on was the one where the guy tripping on "bath salts" went crazy and ate the homeless guys face off. For some reason he didn't respond to me. Gee, I thought runners were friendly.
That run was rough. I had a mixture of Gatorade and water with me and during one of my support stops I refilled. Drank every last drop. I would pour plain water on my neck and enjoy it flowing down my back and chest. I could actually ring my t-shirt out, that's how much I perspired. It was incredibly odd to be running with cameras following you. I'd run for a bit with a camera trained on me, then the camera man would jump in the car to play leapfrog. I felt like every time I stopped to take a walk break, there the camera would be! I just couldn't keep up the pace that was projected.
I came into the exchange and handed off to Jen (I was the middle of a Jen sandwich!). I was projected to come in at 1:22, but I finished in 1:47. It was bad, but I was still vertical when I crossed the finish line. I can't say the same for after that. I managed to walk away from the exchange and drink some more. I wanted to stretch, but things felt like they were locking up, so I didn't, even though that probably means I SHOULD have. I did manage to get into the van and change out of my wet clothes. Yep. Modesty went right out the window when there was a really good threat of athlete's foot and crotch rot. I managed to wriggle my way out of them and put on my next outfit. I got out of the van and stood by Billy, chatting with him about my leg. And then I said "I don't feel good." He said he would be right back, so I just went to my knees and put my hands flat on the floor with my head down. I just watched the sweat drip off of me and prayed I stayed conscious. Kneeling there for 5 minutes helped a lot.
And we're back in the van to get to the next exchange and I called my husband, explaining the good, the bad and the extremely ugly. Then it hit me. The grippers. Runner's trots. Montezuma's Revenge. Whatever you want to call it, I was on the phone and I said to Charlie "I HAVE to go to the bathroom." Click. Now, to maneuver my ass out of the way back of the van and across the street to the port-o-potties. I thought in that moment of Maya Rudolph in 'Bridesmaids,' crossing the street in a wedding dress after eating bad Brazilian food, trying to get to a bathroom before it hits her. She shits herself in the middle of the street, in a wedding dress. Thankfully, I made it, but, let me tell you, if I didn't have such an emergency I probably would have puked from the crime scene that was most of the johns I went in. It didn't matter. I was desperate and it served the purpose it was intended for.
Surprisingly, I don't have a picture of that.
Don't forget to watch the segment about our team on Today at around 8 am, tomorrow, January 10th!!!!