And then the Universe laughed in my face.
The Guys had their first swim lesson yesterday and loved it. We got them home and in bed and then Hubs started cooking dinner. I briefly debated going for a run while he cooked but figured I wouldn't have enough time. I thought I would go after I ate and all would be fine.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
We had sloppy joes and baked french fries for dinner. Hubs made the sloppy joes from scratch so they were delicious. Even so, I limited myself to one sloppy joe and a nice serving of fries. I was full but not stuffed. Immediately after dinner, I threw on my runner gear and left the house.
After .25 miles I wanted to turn around and go home. My stomach hurt. My chest hurt. And I honestly thought I was going to throw up. How could being full make it hard to breathe?!?
I suffered through three godawful miles where I felt like my stomach and chest were made out of brick. I planned my route for 3.5 but once my Garmin beeped at mile three I stopped running. I simply could not make my body go faster than a walk.
|I like to call that third mile my "Just Don't Die" mile|
Never again will I eat before a run. Not like that at least. Holy shit.