This week I didn't feel very well during my training runs, which was a bad omen for his race. Tuesday I couldn't do more than 2 miles -- I just didn't have any energy. Thursday I gutted out 4 miles, but the pace was slow and I just wasn't feeling it. Typically when that happens, its a sign that I'm about to get sick. Well, sure enough today I got the stomach flu.
At the beginning I got stuck way in the back of the pack and couldn't break out for almost half a mile. I was walking and just couldn't get out. I finally broke out and some smart aleck yells, "yeah, go win it dude." Idiot. Then some girl tries to pass me saying, "Watch out, bud." Too bad she couldn't hold that pace for more than 200 yards and I ended up blowing by her on the uphill stretch. "Sorry bud."
From there it went from bad to worse. My stomach started hurting and I could tell that Montezuma was going to have his way with me today. I counted a grand total of 4 port-a-potties until mile 7 -- all of which were occupied. By mile 7 I couldn't hold out any longer and lucked out when I ducked into a nice green 4 foot by 4 foot piece of heaven. 3 minutes later I was back on the road, but I my pace was still pretty slow. My stomach started huring again at mile 10, but there were no more port-a-potties the rest of the way. It was all I could do to "hold tight" and run as fast as I could.
I survived, but I barely made it home in time. I have since received medallion status for all the frequent flyer trips I've made to the John.
I was going to try to go for a 7:30 pace and a PR, but Montezuma won today. With my slow start back in the brat pack, my 3 minute port-a-pottie interlude, and my "proactive" running style, the best I could do today was 8:27. But, on the bright side, at least I made it home without soiling my nice new Pearl Izumi running shorts... | 
