"Ahh... fart city..."

Week 5, Run 3: 2.9 miles in 28 minutes

Warning: if you don't think farts are funny, don't read this. Also, what's wrong with you? They're hilarious.

Never has that line, whispered by my ex's younger sister at the tender age of 4 (who, consequently, is a month or two older than me), applied more to any situation in my life. But it must apply to us all at some point, I suppose, and tonight was my night.

It took me all day to get motivated for my run, which was supposed to be 4 miles around my neighborhood (and the bordering neighborhoods, i.e. in Bella Vista and Society Hill). I had an awesome dinner that consisted of a tofu and basil "ricotta" cream over whole wheat pasta and sauteed mushrooms, zucchini, and onions. Sounds good, right? I suppose the mistake I made was in my greens: Brussel's sprouts and cashews browned in a thyme lemon "butter" (SoyGarden). I love Brussel's sprouts. But they give you gas.

So, yes, I was a little gassy while waiting to digest this meal, but an hour passed and I figured I would be fine. I took off down the block and no sooner had I crossed Passyunk that one cramp hit. Then another. They were neatly positioned on either side of my abdomen, present but not mind-numbing, so I thought, "I guess I'll just keep going." I considered walking them off, but I didn't want to shorten my run and I had told Phil to be worried if I was gone over an hour, since it was dark outside.

"La-dee-da-da," I thought, sans music as usual. It was nice out in 'Philadelphia's First Neighborhood', so I tried to think about that instead. "Oh, look at that dog. Mmm, the scent of beer and cocktails wafting from those drunk people finishing dinner at the French restaurant." But it didn't work! Soon the pain was joined by nausea, and then the nausea became a feeling of food creeping back up my throat.

No. I would not stop. I could not stop. If I blew my run today I'd have to go through the same song and dance on Saturday (which is that I hate running after working in the morning shift so I put it off all day and it just hovers over me, making me feel bad). I was here, and I would finish it! The only thing that would stop me was if I vomited, and hey, if I vomited I guess I'd feel better and I'd still be able to run.

That was my thinking at the time, at least.

I ran about half a mile more when the reason for my cramp finally hit me (and anyone who may have been hiding in the shadows nearby): the Brussel's sprouts. Oh.

Needless to say, armed with this discovery, I was able to let off most of my steam (hardy-har) but I did not finish my 4 miles. I did almost 3, including a walked block, because the nausea persisted through to the end. I had an out a mile early, and I took it.

In other, non-fart related news, I registered for the Rothman Institute 8k in November. It starts just 15 minutes after the Philadelphia marathon, which my sister is running, and I'm so excited! I would have loved to shoot for a longer distance, but I thought I should get some shorter races under my belt before I tackle a half marathon. If I ever tackle one! Plus, I know I can do this without any problems.