May - June 2005 Event Calendar - Michigan Runner

By Becca Putans
Running Your Guts Out
Ihaven’t thrown up due to being sick in a
couple years, yet I puke more than once
— as the result of a healthy activity —
each fall.
Most people wouldn’t take part in a
s p o rt which presents a good chance you’ll
t h row up everything you have eaten. Ye t
t h e re I am, part of my school’s cross count
ry team, doing what most people think is
impossible every day, through the puke
and all.
The first time this happened was in
eighth grade. My excitement about ru n-
ning in my first meet left my system
a round one mile. With it came toaster
s t rudel and enough stomach acid to power
all the car batteries in Luxembourg. It
came up in bucketfuls through my mouth,
and went out my nose. In case you’re curious,
yes, that hurt s .
Poor Coach Stevens. He was standing by
the mile mark getting split times when it all
went down — or up, depending on how you
look at it. “It’s OK, just take it easy and finsih
strong,” he told me while yellow bile
dripped down my face and jersey. All I could
think of was half a mile more, just a halfmile
more.
Fast-forward to the following Monday. I
was in Coach Antel’s class and, as
usual, he was telling us about the last
weekend’s meet. He referred to my digestive
pyrotechnics as a “technicolor yawn.” I
learned quite a few ways to refer to throwing
up that year.
A few weeks later we ran at the Holly
Invitational. This was our school’s first
appearance there, and my body decided to
leave its mark. The other runners may have
felt sorry for me, throwing up and still having
to run; but I felt sorry for them, having
to keep running after watching the insides of
someone’s stomach come up as if it were natural
as lightning. Really, hurling isn’t natural.
The Holly incident pales in comparison
to what happened at Riverside Park. For
some reason unbeknownst to me now, but
hindsight is 20/20, I ate an apple a couple
hours before I ran. Big mistake.
Apples are great going down: juicy,
crunchy, with big, delicious slices. They came
back up that way as well. I crossed the line,
went through the chute, and there it came.
What made this the best incident of my freshman
year is that one chunk took on a life of
its own and choked me. I hope something
rotten happened to that apple.
Apple cinnamon Nutri-Grain granola
bars were the bane of my existence my sophomore
year. They passed through my throat
twice three separate times.
Benzie Central was the first recipient of
this all-natural gift. I had run well until the
finish line. Consider this line: it disguises
itself as something so magnificent you yearn
for it. But actually it’s a devil. If you haven’t
already thrown up somewhere else on the
course, it will happen there. The people who
work the chute do not get paid enough, considering
they don’t get paid.
The finish line again taunted me at Bath.
The chute was once again where I lost it.
During this episode I stepped in puke from
the girl in front of me. Not only did I have
bile, which was cinnamon fresh, on my face
and jersey, I had two people’s puke on my
shoes.
M I C H I G A N R U N N E R
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