Ok, so I've blogged about my race experience, and really this post has nothing to do with running, so be forewarned. ....It does however provide some interesting, or at the very least, maybe entertaining insight into the mind of 1 ultra runner post 100 mile race.So my journey did not end at 100 miles, the end of the race was the beginning of anothter journey that would land me 15 hours later in a hotel in Anchorage Alaska wondering if I was just stuck in a dream....I finished leadville around 8:40am. Got medical clearance and headed to the cabin to rest. I was rudely awakened by my legs 1 hour later as they suddenly decided I needed to be running again. Jolted from sleep I almost landed on the floor in a dead bolt. It was time to get up anyway, I had to be on a flight out of Denver in a few hours to get to Anchorage Alaska for stearing comittee meetings that would begin bright and early Monday morning.Out the door and headed for Denver airport. I was in much pain. I wanted ibuprofen...BAD. All I could remember was the race physician emphatically telling us at the pre-race meeting to NOT take ANY ibuprofen until we have rehydrated AND urinated at least twice. Even though the risk is relatively small it can be devastating if not fatal. Take the right individual, dehydrate him/her and give them a nice dose of ibuprofen and he/she spends the next week in ICU on dialysis from kidney failure or worse they die. It is rare, but I sure did not want my husband to have to explain that one to my kiddos. I DESPIRATELY wanted ibuprofen. Tyelenol sucks. My knee was yelling, and my 2 great toenails had seperated, only partially of course, from the nail bed due to whacking the heck out of them on rocks and shearing force of my toes sliding around a little in my shoes...over 100 miles. Blisters had formed underneath the nails lifting them. at the nail matrix they had completely seperated and were cutting back into the nail bed. Fun stuff.I wore compression socks, really pretty bright pink ones ;) which would soothe my calves...and squeeze the hell out of my toes...ahem. All the way to the airport I am drinking and eating, looking forward to... IBUPROFEN!At this point I should mention that this steering comittee I am a part of is all psychologists, psychiatrists, and behavior health specialists. I was the only non-psych background professional. They all knew I was running Leadville, and I was quite sure they all had pegged me as completely nuts. I was to meet the Director of Pediatric Psychiatry from the Children's Hospital in Denver at the airport to travel togather. No big deal...HA! I was quite nervous about how I would appear and act considering the above stressors. I of course am running late. I muster up the most "normal" looking walk I can the last 50 feet to the gait and introduce myself. We chat briefly and I feel I have given a halfway sane initial impression to my new friend. Fortunately for him, we did not sit together on the plane.Still awaiting to urinate the 2 recommended times before taking my ibuprofen, I board the plane. I sit down, legs dangling for the first time (I sat in the car with my feet on the dash for most of the ride). Wooooowwwweee! Water. I want water and I want to pee! And MOST importantly I WANT IBUPROFEN!! We get in the air and the very young, stereotypical flight attendant brings the drink cart by. I look at her with the most pleading, big brown-eyed look I can give her and say, "water please". She proceeds to pour water from a 30-40oz bottle into a 6 ounce cup. Knowing it will take about 60 of those cups to hydrate me enough to pee, I ask, "may I have a water bottle, I am quite thirsty". She cocks her head, gives me this look and says, "We cannot give the water bottles to the passengers, they are for pouring only, but I can bring you more if you need it". It was the look and the attitude in her eye that pissed me off. I promptly gulped the 6 oz before she finished serving my isle and asked for another. I did the same with the second cup. She cocked her head again, and said, "would you like another?". I said, "no thank you" thinking to myself...nope, I'm gonna wait about 5 minutes and hit the call light. Game on! I called her every 20 minutes for the next hour and a half. It soothed my pain.I finally peed twice and I took my ibuprofen and waited....and waited...no relief....nada. 3 hours flight time left. @#$%!My forehead sweaty, my hands clammy, me shifting and shifting and shifting around in the seat. I tried to walk the isle, but that was worse becuase I couldn't walk long enough to relieve anything, it just inflicted more pain. I sat back down. I did have a prescription for a mild narcotic pain medication....just in case. I have only taken 3 narcotic pain pills in my life...one after the birth of each child. I had no idea how it would affect me and I was afraid it would knock me smoothe out considering I was dehydrated, completely sleep deprived, and had been running for 28 hours and 40 minutes.I debated. The pain was intense. I could not move. If I were traveling alone, I probably would have taken the pain medication and been thrilled to death if the cocky little flight attendant had to carry my ass off the plane ;). However, the problem...Remember my psychiatrist friend I was traveling with? I would have to meet him once I got off the plane and ride with him to the hotel. So with narcotic on board, not only would he think I was crazy for running 100 miles, but he would think I was a drug addict. I could picture myself blubbering and swerving getting off the plane, putting on a show rivaling the antics of Lindsey Lohan. So there I sat in pain that I don't recall ever experiencing before. If only I could move.Since taking 1 PRESCRIBED pain pill was out of the question and might make me look like a crazy drug addict, I started fantasizing about ways to end my pain. Over the next hour I devised a plan to take the flight attendant... I hated her anyway, captive and force the captain to land the plane, call 911, get me an ambulance and get me to the nearest ER where I could get IV morphine and all the water I wanted. I determined this plan was far better than taking the 1 pain pill, risking looking like a crazy drug addict to my colleague. Hence my spiral into complete psychosis.Fortunately, I recognized my spiral and was able to compose myself. I did not take the pain pill. I did however torture the flight attendant several more times for water ;)I walked as normally as I possibly could and carried on a mostly coherent conversation with my colleague until I hit my hotel room. I flopped on the bed and took the damn pain pill. My head spinning I started thinking...You know, it was 59 degrees when I left Leadville, the little clock says it's 59 degrees here. I look out the window and it's still light at 10pm. It's then I have this horrible realization.....What if...what if.. I'm not really in Anchorage? What if I am really in an aid station, at like mile 90...in a hypothermia induced coma, waiting only to be awakened by my crew and aid station workers to be told to get up and go.... I still have 10 miles to go and need to hurry up to make the 30 hour cut off! And then the alarm went off and it was time to get ready for the stearing comittee meetings.
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