The weirdest thing happened to me yesterday on my long run. And it freaked me out. Has this ever happened to you?
Rewind to yesterday, 8:30 a.m.
My plan is to run for a bit if my body feels OK, doing a total of 8-9 miles. I'm excited that it's cooler and less humid. I take my time waking up and grab some green grapes as I get ready to head outside. I have a tank and shorts on, shoes and socks, a Bondi headband. I also fill my handheld water bottle and hit the driveway before 9 ... maybe 8:45-ish. I'm not paying that close of attention to the clock.
Jim and his pals are in the driveway tearing apart something in one of the trucks. I give them a nod and head out.
I walk the first quarter mile, just like I normally do. I notice that the humidity is noticeably less. My route has three legs ... I start at the center, if that makes sense, and spoke out in three different directions. So the first spoke is a run. It feels pretty good, to be honest. I run for 3.5 to 3.75 miles. The last half mile isn't pretty, but I'm not struggling. I slow to a walk for the second spoke. It's mostly sunny, with a bit of shade near my turnaround point. I notice there that my water is running low. But I'm not hot and I figure it's no big deal.
As I make my way back to the "center," I contemplate turning for home and not completing the third spoke. I have just a few swigs of water left and I'm tired. But I remember that I'm traveling next week and that my workout schedule will be hit and miss, so I know it's better to get a good workout in today when I have the time and I trudge on.
Now I just want to make this go as fast as possible. This spoke is more shady and therefore cooler. So I start a walk-run pattern, just trying to get home as fast as I can. All of a sudden I notice I'm tired. Really tired. And I'm thirsty. Really thirsty. And then it hits me.
Wham.
I'm not sure I can actually go on. I am not sure I can put one foot in front of the other. Right here, right now, I just can't go.
I contemplate calling Jim. I've stopped in a shady spot. I'm taking big breaths. I'm trying to decide if I'm dizzy or if this is just all in my head.
And I'm about three-quarters of a mile from home.
I decide there's no way to get there but to walk, so I set out again. I'm trying to think of something -- anything -- that will keep my mind off of this weird feeling.
After what seems like an eternity, I'm home. I've never been so happy to see my driveway.
Jim was outside. He says something I can't remember and I say, "I need some water." And then I head inside.
I hydrated ... a few gigantic glasses of water and some protein in the form of a beefstick. And a couple of salty pretzels. And a piece of Dove Dark. My logical brain says my body needs some sort of fuel that it didn't have enough of ... so I hit the ones I know. Protein. Salt. Water. Sugar.
And then I sit. After 20 minutes, I'm feeling pretty close to normal. So I shower and we get on with our day.
In retrospect, I still don't get it. I didn't do anything different that morning compared to any other morning. I didn't eat or drink differently. I didn't carry more or less water. It wasn't hotter than it has been. I didn't go farther than I normally do. I didn't go faster ... in fact, I was out there a LONG time, meaning I went slower than usual in spite of the running at the beginning.
So I think I "bonked." http://beta.active.com/triathlon/articles/what-you-need-to-know-about-the-dreaded-bonk
I'm fine now. I took it easy today on my bike, just in case.
But it scared me and I don't think I want to do that again.
P.S. This is why you should always carry your phone with you.
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