Run 'Til You Puke (Or, At Least 'Til You "Spit Up")

I am unsure what the line between puking and "spitting up" is, but I think last night's hill and stairs run (Run 42) included spitting up, but I'll get to that.

After my miserable end to week 8 and after spending too much time on the Pearl Izumi running site (see my previous post), I went out last night for a tough hill run, determined to run until it hurt. There's a hill route that goes west on Riverside, down the hill towards Peaceful Valley, and leads to the top of the hill by Hamblen/Hamlen Conservation area. The hill up to the Conservation area is a looping 1/4 mile of climb. The hill back up Riverside heading east is a full 1/2 mile from start to finish. I successfully ran (or, at least shuffled towards the end) both hills, and then I threw in the stairs by the MAC.

Upon summiting the final stair (I believe there are 5 flights), I spit up. I think spitting up is a more accurate description than puking. My stomach contents at the time were solely water and Kiwi-Strawberry Carb Boom gel, and the regurgitation wasn't the gut-clearly event that puking is. I am fairly certain that I have not run harder in my life.

Part of my motivation (aside from the Pearlisms about running v. jogging) was a man with his daughter on the Centennial Trail. The girl looked like she was about 14, and she was in a wheel chair. My uneducated diagnosis of her condition was cerebral palsy. As I was midway up the 1/2 mile hill, I thought about her and the fact that she would like never run--and had not likely ever run. Perhaps I needed a new perspective on running--recognizing that I was lucky or blessed or privileged to be able to even actually physically run, regardless of factors like pace, endurance, etc.