Adventures in trail running and other disgusting things you didn’t want to know about RS

Peggy and I had a ten-mile trail run scheduled Sunday. We looked at the map, planned an easy out and back loop and the next morning we left at 6:30AM, found the parking area we were looking for on the first try and began our run with the temperatures of only 76 degrees. I actually thought it might snow because we haven’t seen less than 100 degrees in over two months.

It was fantastic. We were trail-running Goddesses. Until . . . we reached our turning around place and discovered we were already 1 hour and 45 minutes into our run.  Uhhh, not really sure what happened there but considering I get lost backing out of the driveway I think we took a wrong split somehow and ended up going the long way. It’s an 18-mile trail with several shorter loops. I reckon we missed those loops because we ended up doing the whole freaking trail. Not that I’m complaining, but

1. We didn’t bring water for 18 miles
2. We didn’t fuel for 18 miles
3. It was reaching 100 temps again and
4. Four hours later we sat on the side of the road and pouted because not one single person we asked along the trail [and there were many] knew where they were either. And honestly, they really didn’t seem to care. A different breed these trail people.

Finally, I flagged down a cyclist who led us in the right direction.  Turns out we were sitting on the side of the road panicking only about ¼ mile from our car. Although, after running for 18 miles, ¼ mile more seems like forever and during that foreverness, my stomach started to rumble. Rumble in the worst way.

And here is where we begin the disgusting part. About a month ago I started having really weird diarrhea – the kind that makes you seriously consider swallowing a bag of concrete. And not just regular diarrhea, diarrhea supplemented with yellow pus. (See, I told you it was disgusting.) I’m sorry, pus can come out of many orifices in the body, but when it starts coming out of your ass it’s time to call a doctor. Seven specimen containers and a week later [I’ll let you fill in the blanks] I discover my colon is the lucky host of a toxic-producing, deadly bacteria called Clostridium difficile. or C. Diff.

The most popular ways this bacteria can come into your life are like this:

1. Antibiotics for other infections can kill the good bacteria and the bad bacteria, AKA c. difficile, take over – re: of which I took amoxicillin after a recent sinus infection.
2. From hospital stays because c. difficile is resistant to most disinfectants commonly used in hospitals – re: hysterectomy and removal of giant tumors from my gut in April.
3. From nursing homes or long-term care facilities for the same reason – re: 17 days of sitting with my grandmother in long-term care as she was dying last January.

So there we have it. It’s just all around ugly. And unpredictable. Now I’m on a horrible medication called metronidazole, of which the side effects include: rash, itch, flushing, fever, bloating, headache, dizziness, vomiting, dark urine, loss of appetite and paraesthesia.  And guess what? I have all the side effects EXCEPT the loss of appetite one. I feel worse on this medication than I did without it. Not to mention how I feel when the wind blows some frack air this way. Oh, AND as a special bonus – no wine while on this medication. A girl just can’t win.

I’ve been able to manage running and my colon on short distances . . . but 18 miles? Lets get back to the rumbling. I threw my toxic-infected, rumbling gut into the hot, hot car – soaking wet, covered in dirt and salt, more tired than anything you can image – and then I couldn’t figure out how to find the potty area. Impending emergency and I saw the potty but somehow drove through the gates and passed them. Perhaps I was delirious. Anyhow, a little bit of speeding and an illegal U-turn later I ended up at a filling station just in time not to humiliate myself and save Peggy from what could have been a near life-altering experience.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because running an unplanned 18 miles on the trails, while residing in a toxic gas town, with a toxic-producing bacteriafied colon and toxic-side effecting medication, uphill both ways, in Texas heat, didn’t just earn me a dirt tan, I now own that dirt tan.

I think we might be ready for our half in September! Woo Hoo. Go us – even though we walked 6 of those miles – we finished 18 miles. La, la, la. Trail girls rule!