Posts Tagged with: "Fainting"

Aaaaw, it was a scene straight out of the movies…or maybe just a postcard. I parked my car at the soccer field of Alabang Country Club yesterday morning and paused for a few minutes to appreciate the spectacle before me: the sun was about to rise. How I missed seeing the early morning sun! On this occassion—unlike so many others in the past (wherein I was just probably PMSing at that time)—I had every right to be melodramatic about this run.

I had been through Runner’s Hell and back the past week. (“Runner’s Hell” because only my running life was in turmoil. Apart from my kid’s yaya going on an emergency 2-week leave, life was pretty much happy. Hubby has a job and no mistress. My preschoolers do not take drugs.) My running life was threatened because of my fainting incident two Saturdays ago. At a time when I should’ve been running the Milo 10k, I was at home downing bottles of Gatorade to forget the missed race. While I was supposed to be training for Run to Bring Hope, I was wasting away at clinics begging doctors to allow me to run again. I thought the week would never end. But, as my equally sentimental friend Rico once told me, “After the rain, comes the rainbow.” In my case, the rainbow came straight out of my doctor’s mouth last Saturday. After evaluating my results from my Treadmill Test, he announces “There’s nothing wrong with your heart. Go ahead and run.”

The Bull Runner wastes no time. The day after, which was yesterday, I met with Coach B at 5:15 am for my first road run in two long-drawn-out weeks. Against the backdrop of the rising sun, I felt like I was starting anew. Goodbye to talks of fanting spells and failed runs, I thought. It’s time to get back into the groove of things.

We set out for a 15km run in my favorite playground, Ayala Alabang. Coach B labelled this our “Recovery Run” since he was still recovering from Milo’s 42k (Congrats again, Coach!) and I from my brief running break. In the beginning, my feet felt like they were anchored to the road. They were so unbelievably stiff and heavy. Gradually, at around 2k, I found my rhythm and felt at ease. Aaah, I missed this even more than the rising sun! Our pace was slower than usual (5’26″/km to be exact) but it was alright. Man, it was great! I was just glad to be running again. I would’ve stopped to kiss the road but decided otherwise for fear it would look like I was fainting again.

That run was unforgettable. It was my first 15k. Yeah! But, even beyond the new record, it was unlike any other run I’ve had in the past because of what I’d been through. I came so close to losing running forever. And, after saying the phrase “I will die if I don’t run” so many times the past week, I felt so alive to be given the chance to just run again. So, after our 1 hr and 22 mins of pure bliss on the road, before we parted ways with Coach, I just had to say it “I’m back!” Oh yes, The Bull Runner is back!

As I write this, it has been exactly 4,302 minutes since my last run. You know how long that is for an addicted runner like me? Just about as long as your wait when you are the 15th in line for the toilet and you got one minute before the race starts.

Last week was the first time that I ran just twice in a week—both of which were unchallenging, mediocre treadmill runs. My training log is cursing me for leaving him an orphan. My ipod is gathering dust. My tummy has morphed into a blob of jello. And, my feet—ah my feet—they are smooth, blister-free, and relaxed. Just the way non-runners like them.

Needless to say, I am grouchy, bloated, and whiny. If you see me, do not say hi. You must run for your life, especially if you are in red running gear, for The Bull Runner shall attack.

Okay, I’m exaggerating again as I always do. Despite the foul mood, I manage a little smile every hour or so, but these are reserved only for my husband and children—and myself whenever I open a block of Choc-nut in between my bouts of depression.

I’m saving just one wide thankful grin for my doctor later this afternoon though. I got a blood test this morning and, as soon as I get the results, I’ll go for a check up. I’m pretty sure nothing is wrong. My guess is that I’m anemic or I should be eating more nutritious foods, but nothing serious. (Nope, I am not pregnant. I’m 100% sure!)  I shall ask my doctor, “So, doc, can I start running again tonight? And, can I join the Run for HOPE on Sunday?” To which he will most definitely reply, “By all means, go ahead and run.” And, with that, I shall instantly return to my normal happy self again with a wide grin to show for it.

All I see is green. Among the mass of 10,000 runners clad in green, I find my way towards the clear roads of Roxas Boulevard. I am running, no flying. Other runners stare in disbelief as they fall like bowling pins knocked out by a speeding ball. I run the streets as if it is mine. I see nothing and feel nothing. I am running faster than I have ever had in my life. In the blink of an eye, the race is over. Crowds cheer. I look around to realize I am the first one to cross the finish line. I am the winner!

I wake up at exactly 5:58 this morning with that wonderful dream. (Yes, boys and girls it was a dream. What did you think?) My only thought upon waking was: two more minutes to the start of the race—and I missed it. I lay in bed watching the clock. One minute more. 30 seconds. 10. 3…2…1…and they are off. Me too—but I am headed towards the bathroom. This sucks.

Why did I miss the race? Because of my “little” incident last night:

After dinner in Teriyaki Boy, we—my hubby, son, daughter, and I—hop over to our favorite weekend haunt: Timezone in Alabang Town Center. In about 10 minutes, my stomach starts acting up. I ask my hubby to watch the kids while I walk in haste towards the nearest restroom. It’s a short walk, but not to me. As I wobble through the corridor towards the comfort room, my tummy starts churning, my vision becomes hazy, and I suddenly feel like I’ve been possessed by a drunk Britney Spears. When I reach the door to the comfort room, a woman holds me up and asks “Are you okay?” to which I can barely find the strength to reply a simple yes. I clumsily find my way to a cubicle and enter.

There are women chatting and I am watching them from afar. I walk towards one of them. I am about to tap her in the shoulder when…

I open my eyes to hear voices “Miss, wake up. Wake up.” in tagalog. I was just dreaming. I look around to discover that I am lying on the floor of the comfort room in the arms of two janitresses who apparently caught my fall. God, I fainted. For the first time in my entire life, I fainted?!

Three security guards help locate my husband and kids and—even if I feel alright after a couple of visits to the toilet—they insist on taking me to nearby Asian Hospital. I hesitate, but relent. Before we know it, I am whisked away in a wheelchair towards the gates of the mall. God, this is so embarassing, I think. When we reach the exit, there is a large crowd curious to see who shall enter the ambulance that awaits. OMG, this is even more humiliating. I wish I had a brown bag to cover my head. I will die if I see anyone I know. I stand up, smile at everyone, and ride the ambulance towards Asian Hospital.

By the time we get home it is around 9 pm. I ask my hubby about the Milo race and he curtly replies “Don’t even think about it.” I pretend not to hear it and send SMS messages to my sister Janice and two other runner friends Mayi and Annie about the incident. All of them advise the same thing: “Don’t run.” Being the bull-headed runner (er, I mean The Bull Runner) that I am, I refuse to even think of skipping the race, but I don’t have a choice. It would be crazy to risk my health for a race. Besides, I think that fainting in a marathon is a hundred times worse than doing so in a bathroom with a handful of people as an audience.

So, there goes my Milo Manila Marathon story, which was certainly not the Milo Marathon race report you probably anticipated. To all those who crossed the finish line, congratulations! Annie, Coach, Mayi, Jamike, and Happy Feet: sayang, I didn’t get to see you there! To those who pledged through me for Kythe: I ran 0km but if you still wish to commit to your pledge I can still donate it directly to Kythe—or you may wait for my next race. Banggigay, Marga, Roselle, and Neville: shucks, I missed meeting you for the first time! Not to worry, there will be more races…like next week’s Run for Hope? haha.

Oh, and for those who have lingering questions about the cause of my fainting, here are the answers:

• Nope, I’m not pregnant. At least I don’t think so.
• Yes, I eat. I am not anorexic.
• No, I will not be suing Teriyaki Boy. I’ve ruled out food poisoning because my family ate the same thing I did.
• Yes, I’ll get myself checked.
• Yes, I will still continue running.
• No, I will not give you my Milo singlet!

Thank you to Alabang Town Center for taking very good care of me—specifically the two janitresses, three security guards, ambulance driver and his companion. I regret that I didn’t get their names, but I’ll surely be writing you to let you know of the wonderful people you have in your team.