Things To Do When You Are Violently Ill

October 4, 2010 by josh

First, lets define violently ill.

Friday evening we had a few friends over for a good old-fashioned-weenie-roast.  The fire barrel was in full glory, kids were playing, Canadian Republican political theories were being shot down left and right.  You know, a nice night.  Before you get all “..well duh, don’t you know what’s in hot dogs?” I’ll tell you that out of sheer laziness I didn’t even roast, or consume a cased sausage of any kind.  I had in order and in total,  Tortilla chips and salsa(Canucky Jeff’s home brew), pasta salad(my wife’s home brew), and potato salad(ZenMasterKenny and CanuckyMeg’s home brew with effing vegan-aise).  For the record, I blame the vegan-aise.

In any case, the sun set, and we sat in the back yard talking about how wrong Canadians can be about American Politics, and as it got dark, I started to get cold.  As a fat man, I brushed it off, waiting for the outer blubber to seal in my marshmallowy warmth.  As the minutes ticked by, I got colder and colder.  Strangely, none of the small children running around barefoot seemed cold, and then CanuckyJeff said you look like your going to puke.  At which point I realized that I felt like I was going to puke.  The Canadians and Eastern philosophers dismissed themselves and I went into the house.  At 74 degrees the house was exactly two degrees above what I deem acceptable between May 1 and Oct 7.  Then the shivering began.  The violent shivering that hurts.  I quickly pulled on some pajama pants, a hoodie, wool socks and a blanket.  I laid on the bed with a hot pad clenched tightly to my chest.  This lasted until my wife came to bed and complained that I still reeked of weenie-roasting fire.  At which point I took the first of the several water-heater-draining showers  I would take through the night.  Got out, pulled on the best approximation of footie-pajamas I could muster,  and went to bed.  For about 15 minutes.  Then the waves of violent wretching began.  As my wife can attest, I am no dainty puker.  When I reverse chug, my entire gastrointestinal tract from my vocal chords to my butt cheeks gets involved.  It is always loud, and usually unsettling.  After the first technicolor yawn, I figured the offending food had been removed, and it was time to get some rest.  After all I had a cyclocross race in the morning.  Much to my chagrin, as soon as I got back into bed, the shivering returned, followed by aches, followed by a disgusting amount of sweat, followed by a hot shower.  In that order, over and over again, until morning.  My wife will tell you that in those hazy moments when I did doze off,  her sleep was interrupted by delirious ramblings.  On separate occasions through the night, I told her she should park next to me, take the “M” to the start line, and that it would be allright.  I tried to pass them off as euphamisms, but I don’t remember saying any of it.

Once the sun rose, I got out of bed and realized that I may just miss the first race of the UTCX season.  I was no longer nauseous(or whistling beef,…. I just wanted to get another good one in)  But I was exhausted, achy, and still shivering.  Once up and around, I felt well enough in my estimation to attend the race, just not ride in it.  I told CanuckyJeff and Parrish to pick me up and I’d cheer them on.

When they pulled up with bikes loaded and smiling, I walked out and joked about throwing in my bike so I could just soft-pedal and earn pack points as long as I could finish.  They laughed and suggested I throw it in so they had a B bike in the pits.  Agreeing that would be a good idea I grabbed my bike but as I loaded it up, a overwhelming warmth came over me, and I felt as though I were floating just above the ground.  At which point, I spoke these words(or something very similar)”Screw it, I’m racing.”  Ran in the house and grabbed a pair or shorts, a jersey, and my shoes,helmet,etc.  My wife, did not look amused when I told her I was racing, and would later send a sarcastic text to see if I survived.

Once at the race, more than one person mentioned that I didn’t look so good.  Because of Canadian route finding, a longer than usual registration line, and a dispute as to whether or not I had pre-purchased a number plate, I had basically no time for a warm-up lap, instead loping down to the start line and waiting for what would come.  I didn’t feel good, but I also didn’t feel bad.  The sun was cresting over…..Suncrest(hmm), and I was no longer cold.  The regular pre-race jitters were gone due to a conveniently low expectation of my performance.  And when they started us, I grabbed a comfortable gear and went.  Soon my heart rate was up and I was pedaling along.  I had managed a front half start which was pretty good,  and I found that I was actually picking off a couple guys as the laps ticked by.  Not scorching the course by any means, but feeling okay.  Whenever I sensed somebody behind me, I was gracious enough to wave them through.  I didn’t want my delusions of grandeur getting in the way of their strong mid pack finish.  Things were going great and I could see that I was on the verge of catching the back of the pack.  If I couldn’t have a strong finish, I was at least hoping to say, that even though I was sick, I managed to lap a couple guys.  All hopped up on mediocrity, I took a bad line on the singletrack and heard the black call of the burped tire.  With it’s associated belch of filth emptying all my Stan’s onto the ground.  Riding, I was maybe 90 seconds from the finish.  Walking, It was more like 5-10 minutes.  And so I walked.  Being re-passed by every chubby dude on a mountain bike I had overtaken before, and a even more that had been hot on my tail throughout the race.  As I walked up the final climb, I noticed Ryan Hamilton had suffered a similar fate(albeit with far more expensive tires than mine).  They were holding the podium ceremony before I crossed the line.

Graciously Race Organizer Matt Ohran shook my hand as I crossed the line, and I had the pride of knowing that even walking and sick, I had earned valuable pack points for my Clammy Chamois team.

That is, until I checked the results online this morning and noticed that I was not listed as a participant.  Not even DFL.

To add insult to misery, I also spent the remainder of the weekend in a continual ache, sweat, shiver cycle.  Praying for death on several occasions.

On second thought, maybe next time your sick, just stay home and take meds.

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