Still training for that marathon. The one in Santa Barbara on December 6.  I ran 10 miles yesterday with a new running buddy. If I had not been with my buddy, I would not have finished the 10 miles. period.  I was feeling a new brand of tired and worn-out.

It was really, really hot by the beach. And I was feeling more exhausted than normal.  I attributed the exhaustion to the fact that I haven't been hungry for a whole week. I don't live to eat. I only eat to live. And since I wasn't hungry like ever this week. I didn't do a whole lotta eating. So I figure my body was running low on things to burn while it ran. Also, I am a big sweater. I was covered in a shiny greasy sweat/suntan lotion mess throughout the whole run, adding greatly to my misery. I drank four 16 oz bottles of water during the run and two packs of GU.

I finished the run, and immediately felt nauseous. The kind of nausea where you tell the driver to corner slowly or else. But not the impending doom type of nausea.  After breakfast at IHOP, I also had a thin layer of white dust sheathing my skin.

What baffled me was the fact that after 6 hours, the nausea was STILL there. This has never happened to me before, and I've pushed myself pretty hard in the past.  I had movie plans that night and hurriedly tried to take a half hour nap to force myself to feel better. It didn't pan out cause I was feeling like SUCH crap. I was flirting with exhaustion, but I wasn't tired. And I gave up after a couple minutes of lying in my non-airconditioned apartment and sweating some more.

Giving up on the nap, I took a Tylenol for a headache and left like a zombie to get to the subway station.

I exited the highway and saw some golden arches out of the corner of my right eye. And SOMETHING TOOK OVER.  I felt like I had psychic magnetism cumpulsing me to follow the pulling sensation.  I burned rubber driving over the curb into the drive-through lane.

I was so desperate. An image of starving Oliver Twist popped into my mind. "Please, Sir. I want some more." And I laughed, my control well past politeness, my mind screaming. FRIES, FRIES, FRIES, FRIES. I'm going to strangle a nun if I don't get some fries.

Two dollars, a cocked eyebrow, and eighteen cents later.  I was in paradisio.  I was eating the fries and sucking the salt off of my fingers BETWEEN fries.  I am emitting sounds like a hungry baby does when gumming down on a nipple. "YUM, yum, yum, yum, mmmmmmmm, gmgmgm, yom, yum, mm, mm, mm." Another Fry. "YUM, yum, yum, yum, mmmmmmmm, gmgmgm, yom, yum, mm, mm, mm."

I drove to the subway station. And having been informed that my party would be 5 minutes late, sat down beneath a tree in some shade and continued making progress on my fries.  A scroungy looking homeless lady wandered over and stared down at me, held out her hand, and said "Fries". I normally have no interest in giving away stuff to homeless people and now was BEYOND not an exception.  I shook my head while hunching protectively over the fries till she wandered away.

By the time I pulled my head out of the carton where I had been licking the sides, I was ready, alert, non-nauseous, and ready to board a train to travel to Hollywood to watch an under-whelming movie.

I remembered my new running buddy telling me about something called Hyponatremia. This is a sodium-water imbalance in the blood. Too much water, too little salt. Symptomized, among other things, by nausea, head-aches, and comas. And caused, among other things, by sweating too much, drinking too much water, and behaving stupidly at a Rave.  Maybe I am imagining things. His telling-me-to-beware made me convince myself I had the symptoms. Maybe I really was sick.  I sweated a lot and drank a gob of water. I had nausea and a headache for 6 hours.

Either way I bought these swell looking Margarita Shot Bloks from REI that have 3x the sodium of normal Shot Bloks. Their only flavor this far with this feature.  I'm going to be packing these on any future, hot long runs. I have a half-marathon to run next week; I'll let you know how it goes. And I promise to pace myself on the water next time.