Race Recap: 17th Veracruz Half-Marathon

In the interest of full disclosure, I had signed up for this early in our trip (with the best of intentions). We thought it could be fun to try a ‘locals’ race. Why the hell not?

Well as it turns out, having to BE somewhere on a specific date and time is very difficult travelling. Even worse if you must also be well enough to run. The other me that signed up did so with the gullibility of a new traveller, like the one that confidently and stupidly told a couple we were dining with in Mazatlan that ‘we’d not been sick and didn’t have any problems.’ Well, I ate that statement immediately the next day, thanks Ley for poisoning us with shitty cheese. Foreshadowing….dun dun dunnnnn….

As race day neared, I ran into a series of problems crossing the mountains of central Mexico. I felt absolutely miserable, a slow-creeping, grinding horror-show of nausea and a rapidly diminishing appetite. Weird how altitude sickness makes you feel like, yeah I’m fine… and then immediately NOT fine. Trigger point for me included wolfing down, in my extreme greediness (I love to eat, so sue me), half a Chicago deep-dish pizza in Morelia. I should have known when I wasn’t even hungry enough to eat it, or lunch. Disaster.

I felt miserable in Morelia, the pizza sitting like a slow burning piece of volcano in my gut, non-digesting and causing all sorts of problems. We then travelled to Zitacuaro (honestly, kind of a nothing city. It had a Woolworths, which was very interesting to me, a relic of the past?) for the famed Monarch migration. I was feeling ok by then, and my genius body/mind decided to screw me by drinking oh, half a bottle of Bonafont’s Fresa sugarfree water. It tasted good, I was hydrating, albeit not eating much, so what’s the deal?

Well, to quote someone I saw on Facebook the other day buying an Italian sparkling water; “two cups of this and you will shit your soul out”… And boy, did I!

Also, we didn’t draw the conclusion it was the horrible laxative water that did it, so guess what? Some mistakes are so good, you get to make them TWICE. Yes, I drank the rest of the freaking bottle the next day and wonder of wonders, spent the next night on the bathroom floor, wondering if it was possible to literally shit out an organ. Fun!!!!

At last, I realized what was going on and we dumped the rest of the devil-water, confident that we were now on an upswing: food staying in stomach; maybe able to eat more, maybe a meal even, once we get lower in altitude. Things were copacetic for approximately one night and then I made a mistake in Veracruz. I was feeling good, cocky maybe? We’d made it, got the bib pickup and it was flawless. I ate fast food (Carl’s Jr is big here for some reason? It is very expensive but we were gingerly feeling our way back to eating, so fast food seemed like an ok compromise) and two of my regular magnesium supplements. BIG MISTAKE.

Fast forward to 5am and I had spent yet another sleepless night, serenaded by both the extremely loud bands in the squares and the sound of another toilet flushing endlessly. When the alarm went off, I felt dizzy. I weaved upright, no food, nothing solid staying in my stomach, and stubbornly decided I was going to keep going.

Ian really thought it was a horrible idea. In his defence, it was. Gidget thought so too, and crumpled into a dog towel at the thought of us getting her up at this ungodly hour for no reason.

I choked down a peanut butter and jam sandwich, waited for it to relentlessly fly out of my stomach, and we staggered to the car park where the attendant seemed very surprised to see us at such an hour. We were just as surprised, to be fair.

Ian dropped me off close to the start line and off I went, thirsty, extremely dehydrated and tragically sick, clutching the gel the race gave me and hoping I didn’t actually die doing this. The vibe was really awesome at the start – Carnaval dancers, drums and so many people – it was like a big street party! I loved it and it almost made me forget what a miserable idea this was.

I got into the start and Ian was right there, which was great! Sadly, he didn’t have a water bottle and my thirst would go unquenched. SIGH. We waited for a bit and then we were off! My expectations were set: Don’t collapse.

I’ve been running my recent half marathons in the 1:29 to 1:31 range so this was going to be humbling. It was also going to hurt. I jostled and jogged around other runners (over 4 thousand in the race!) for about 5km feeling pretty ok, until my extreme dehydration caught up to me and I started seeing greying spots. I am a fainter so I was concerned.

I made a deal with myself: get as much fluid and calories as you can and walk if you have to. I had told Ian about 2 hrs to finish, so I figured that was a-ok. And that, friends, is what this stupid dummy did. To make sure this race didn’t turn into a Mexican Death Race, I walked. I grabbed bags of water, Gatorade, and mimicked what I saw other Mexican runners doing – ripping open the bags of water with your teeth and let it wash over you in a big gush. Bit of a learning curve for this gringo, but I did it!

The aid stations were teenagers haphazardly stocked with sacks of water, Gatorade and later, coconut water? I loved it. They were everywhere. I grabbed handfuls, threefuls of water, Gatorade anything I could get my hands on.

I felt dizzy and faint up until 10k, and it was then I started walking. I ate my gel (surprisingly good!) and had cranberry/chia smeared all of my face and hands, mixed with sweat. I watched everyone, I was now a middle-to-back-of-packer and it was pretty glorious. People jumped off the course to hug friends, take selfies, say hi.

The vibe was so cool, and I was extremely fortunate there was a stiff breeze chilling everyone on course as we ran into the rising sun on the malecon. I enjoyed the aggressive cheering that sounded more threatening than anything, the drummers, the Carnaval girls, everyone. People had their own unofficial aid stations, giving us bags of ice water, cokes. I took it all, and loved it.

I had to walk for a bit at every km at this point, as my vision was greying every time I tried to run a bit longer. That was fine. And then we were guided into the finish chutes, which led us to an amazing finish line: You run the track at the local university through the chutes. I felt like Chariots of Fire it was so fantastic! What a finale! I actually ran this last part and went through the finish. We were then sent through a line up to get more electrolyte drinks, a banana and an orange, and then to our medal. I felt amazing, I had done it, despite the bad circumstances and admittedly poor judgement I showed.

Ian was right there too! We got pictures with the medal (very heavy) and walked back to the car where we surprised a sleeping Gidget. It was too early for her. Back at the hotel my stomach literally exploded, and we got better medicine for it and by Monday I was finally on the recovery train. I was so weak my arms were shaking.

Still, glad I did it. Would NOT recommend this stunt to anyone, but I moderated my goals and it worked out! It took a few days for me to get stronger and regain the weight I’d lost. Luckily, I’m a good eater 😉