Runner experience: “I projectile vomited all over Ottawa Race Weekend”

As told to Sinead Mulhern.

This year’s Ottawa Race Weekend is certainly one for the books. It was one of those running experiences that you never want to have happen.

I was registered in the half-marathon with a plan to treat it as a training day for the half Ironman that I have coming up in July. Going in, I wanted to run at a 6:20 or 6:30 per kilometre pace and pick it up towards the finish. My aim was maybe something around 2:15 or 2:20. I got to my corral and started at 8:30 a.m. Things were looking good.

Then I got a pain in my side. It didn’t seem to be too serious. I was wrong.

I settled into the race thinking it would pass. “It’s probably just a gas bubble,” I thought to myself. I kept positive until the 10K. I passed it in 1:04– right on target. By 12K though the pain hadn’t subsided. I thought perhaps my water belt was too tight. I adjusted it but it didn’t help. I continued on and finished kilometre 14 knowing that my dreaded middle third of the race was over. Less than two kilometres later though, I had to stop.

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I took two steps off the course, leaned against a building and there it was: a steady stream of puke. Lots. I was surprised but, still thinking positively because I figured that whatever was causing the pain was all cleared up now. Little did I know…

I ran one more kilometre up to the Alexandria Bridge. And then I had to stop again, this time by the Ottawa River. It was coming. I knew it this time. Right there, on this intermission in my race I leaned over and vomited into the Ottawa River current. I realized my post-race lunch plans were all over. I just let it flow.

At this point in the morning, it wasn’t even that hot yet. I got myself to a medical tent as soon as possible and got myself a drink of ice water. I didn’t just have a few sips– I chugged it. Half the bottle. It was a stupid idea, I realize this now in retrospect. I felt OK and got up to run. I made it a measly 700 metres when I encountered Projectile Vomit Experience Number Three. This time I wasn’t lucky enough to puke in private. Right there in front of an area packed with spectators, I threw my guts up. To say it was embarrassing is an understatement. Frankly speaking, it was horrifying. I sat there casually for a moment to think about this experience. The 2:20 pace bunny ran past. It was just not my day.

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I got up, walked along the canal and ran into my friends who had come along to cheer me on. With their encouragement, I kept walking. I did see one runner who was definitely worse off than me: the runner who was in the medical tent with an IV was definitely having a terrible time. I reached 20K. I didn’t feel good… but at this point, that wasn’t much of a shocker.

With one kilometre left to go, this was the point of the day where my body decided to unleash Puke River #4. This time it was in front of a mom and her two children less than 20 feet away. Understandably she came over to see if she could help. I’m fine, everything is fine, I told her as I just turned around and left. Awkward.

At this point, there was no chance of me running through the finish and with less than a kilometre to go, this is when medics on bicycles showed up. Of course. It turns out my mom had sent them… obviously. There I was at my goal race having puked four times and walking to the finish way off my goal time and being escorted by medics. This was not what I wanted.

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I was a little frustrated walking to the finishing chute. My name was on my bib and so spectators had taken to calling my name. It was well-intention-ed I know, but I was not having it. I was having a little pity party and crossing the finish in a disappointing 2:47.

There is a silver lining though. Actually, there are two positives I can take from this: one, I didn’t puke on my shoes. Two, at least I had tidal waves coming from only one end of my body. Things could have been worse, maybe I’ll try again next year…