Big Run/Big Fun

Don completely stole the theme I was hoping to develop for my blog today;)
It's okay though. It sounds like a great run, and I'd totally be stoked too, if I were him.

Yesterday's Run
Distance: 18 miles
Time: 2:47:39 (+ approx 5 minutes in which I stopped the watch while being sick)
Overall Impression: I Vomited At Mile 6. What More Is There To Say? (IVAM6WMITTS)

Like Don, I have mixed feelings about this run. On the one hand, I felt nothing but glee for finishing what ultimately was a challenging run. On the other hand, I would have preferred a little easier outing.

My early splits were a little faster than I wanted, but they were definitely within acceptable windows. I think I was running about 8:50 per mile for the first five miles. It was remarkably smooth since I reversed two runs last week, and instead of coming off a little rest and an eight miler, I was coming off a little rest and a three miler. I basically felt fresher than I have in ages.
Around four miles my torso started to cramp in an extremely odd way. It wasn't a stitch, but it soon was accompanied by a lot of burping and the worst acid-reflux symptoms I've felt since a college night when my brother, some friends, and I resorted to washing down Jäger shots with Tums chasers. The situation got worse and worse until I was spitting every ten paces or so to get rid of the excess bile/grossness that was coming up. I finally had to to vomit around mile 5.5. I didn't have the camera, sorry.
This oddly restored me for about half a mile. Soon, however, I was completely overcome by the aforementioned bad feelings, and ultimately I puked up everything I had. It was less than encouraging.
Tessa suggested that we go home, probably because I was frightening the geese and they bite hard, but I rationalized that to turn around then would be a waste, since we had already run a third of the way. If I could only complete another .2 of the total distance out, then we could turn around and complete the whole run.
And off we went.
Things were going well for a few miles (I continued a roughly 9min mile pace for the next three), but I was becoming extremely, increasingly, aware that two miles of trying to control the stomach and two brief bouts of excessive vomiting can be tiring. I was already starting to fatigue by mile nine, which in itself is odd, when the sun came out in Cologne for the first time in months. We were in the middle of what would become a 28 degree day, and I just left all of my liquids back by the lake.
By miles 10-12, my body felt like I was closer to 16, and my splits were starting to suffer. My calves and quads were feeling the complete effects of dehydration, and they were cramping acccordingly. I was taking down water and goo, but all the fuel I had consumed at breakfast was gone. I probably gave up a half liter of water earlier. I was literally running on empty.

At mile fifteen, I stopped and walked. For those of you who have run with me, you know this rarely happens. I, as a general rule, never run fast enough to warrant slowing down anyway. I've run longer distances than this a few times, and shorter distances that have been problematic, but it is basically a cardinal rule that I hardly ever break. After a few feet, I continued running again, but by this time the stride had turned into more of a plod.

At mile 16, I came to a T-Junction. Left turn went directly home and to my salvation/survival. Right turn was where the last two mile loop was.
I turned right.
With a mile remaining I stopped to walk a few feet again, then I kicked it back in. I shuffled along until I reached the front step of my house. Tessa had to go upstairs (God bless her, she's already MVP of this marathon-training :)) and grab a wallet so I could corner the local market on sports drinks, while I tried to stretch two legs that were suffering the first pre-mortum case of rigor mortis.

SO:

I was pleased that I finished the run in spite of a few overwhelmingly bad circumstances. I was also pleased that I let myself walk. If I hadn't I think I could have damaged something. But at the same time, I am completely puzzled as to what caused these reactions. My diet differed little from what I have always eaten before big runs. I basically had three pieces of bread with honey, whereas in America I would have eaten plain bagel or oatmeal, probably also with honey. It might have been that it was a German wheat bread that was either a) too sour, or B) simply too tough to break down. I DO NOT KNOW. The night before I had a lasagna-like dish that Tessa made, but that has never caused me problems either.
I do know I don't want to experience that again. I was exhausted the rest of the day, slipping into a near-coma state only about thirty minutes after the run. I still feel a little off.
I'm going to research some possible causes, but if anyone has any ideas then let me know!!! Or, as an alternative: Would anyone like to post an extra post with their own dietary succcess stories? Maybe we can pick something up from it that we all could use? I'll post one later, but I'm not too sure anyone wants to hear my ideas about eating anymore:)

20 miles on Tuesday!!! Let's hope I'm back on track :)