Wow, so much has happened. So little has happened. I have sad tales and happy tales and my dogs have wagging tails.
Sadie was last listed as disinterested in running. She revived and is again by my side. I think her primary motivation is running into Richard, the ice cream man for dogs. Richard walks almost every day, with a pocketful of delicious dog treats. He spares no expense on these treats and he knows all the dogs on his route. He keeps index cards in his pocket: dog's name, where they live, their favorite treat, any special medical considerations.
Sadie, and Zumi, think he is WONDERFUL. They can smell him a half mile away, I swear. They stop, point their noses, take a big sniff and then sprint to him. All Richard wants is to give the dogs a treat and then pet them. All the dogs want is every treat in his pocket. They turn into vicious animals, jumping and pawing at him, snapping the delicacies out of his fingers, sometimes taking a bit of finger tip along with the treat. I have tried to calm them down but they become frenzied when they spot him.
My big race was Run Rabbit Run. It turned into a short race. Everything was going well until about mile 35. Then everything turned to, uh, well. I quit peeing. The funny thing was that I was in the bathroom, sitting on a bench, at the 41 mile aid station trying to decide if I just had a UTI or if I had an acute kidney injury. Some woman entered a stall and let loose with a stream of urine that lasted and lasted and lasted. I indelicately announced that, "I'd give anything to do that." "Do what?" she asked. "Pee," I moaned. "You can't pee?" she asked. "Nothing but blood," I responded.
She came out of the stall and introduced herself as an OB/GYN and sat down next to me. She concluded that I was not dehydrated, and I should therefore NOT push fluids, and I should probably drop out of the race before I did any real damage. I took her advice and that was the end of that. I went a total of 20 hours without producing more than a cup of urine. Kind of scary, but everything returned to normal within a couple of days.
What's next? Stay tuned.
Having been called a dusty ole gramma by 4 year old Linus, I have begun questioning my vitality. Am I really dusty? and old? Or am I still a credible trail runner and ultrarunner, completing mountain races in Colorado, New Mexico and Wyoming?
