I have nothing to be proud of after a failed morning of running. Nothing. But, I’m going to categorize my experience as practice and resolve to learn from my flop.
First, the circumstances didn’t line up well. I haven’t been running well for more than a month. I’m not quite heat acclimated yet, and this past week included far too many poor nutrition choices.
Still, I should have been able to finish my first ever beer-mile attempt.
But first, we ran a 5K, in the scorching heat. The race didn’t start until 8:15 a.m., and by that point, I was already dripping sweat. After slogging through 3.1 miles in 21:09 (I ran even splits but didn’t feel OK at any point of the run), we stood around in the sun waiting for the beer mile, which didn’t start until 9:50.
Before I started chugging my first beer, I knew I was in trouble. My stomach hurt. Then I added 36 ounces of Great Raft’s Southern Drawl Pale Ale (5.2% ABV to satisfy beer-mile law) and three 400-meter laps.
Going in, I was afraid of vomiting in front of people (more than 130 people signed up for the beer mile and 400+ ran the 5K). As soon as I started running, however, I was much more concerned with the contents of my stomach rushing out a different area. I would get past spewing in front of others. Soiling my running shorts, however? Not so much.
So I sprinted to the bathroom, skipping my fourth beer and fourth lap. I made it just in time to spare myself public humiliation … but the beer mile hasn’t seen the last of me. I’m already planning out a makeup attempt.
I must finish what I started. Just not today.