it turns out to be tough on your body

Last night, I set out on a run (17.2). I was feeling pretty okay on the way back in, so I also went around the outside of the park (18.9), telling myself "this might feel bad, but it's going to feel worse at mile 22 on race day!" and humming a cheerful rendition of a NIN song ("Self Destruction, Part 2").

I popped in the door. Mark markluffel had already eaten but he was ready for some tea, so we were off for Chinese food! And as we drove, my face and arms felt numb and I was increasingly uncomfortable. We pulled over, and he confirmed that I wasn't having a heart attack. Mark drove the rest of the way.

When we got there, I promptly yarfed up my belly full of hastily-gulped water and orange juice, right in the parking lot. I felt a lot better, and assumed we could eat. The waiter, who's worked there as long as I can remember, brought some veggie lo-mein, which I couldn't bring myself to touch. I felt bad because he assumed I thought it didn't look very good. But I felt worse as I hustled off to the bathroom to heave again.

Mark packed up our food and paid the bill while I was in the bathroom, then took us home. I crawled into bed. That markluffel character, he's a really good friend.