Aftermath

Just so the gods didn't get jealous, however, it wasn't a pristinely perfect 24 hours. About 3 hours after the race my body did a Cleo. When I was a kid we had an ill-tempered and mostly insane siamese cat named Cleo. When we came back from a one or two week family vacation, she'd be all over us, purring and rubbing against against us, insisting on sitting our laps or twining between our legs as we tried to unpack. A few hours after we'd returned, however, she'd remember that we had abandoned her and she would savage whoever she was closest to (usually me).

At about eleven that night I lost the ability to stand and my entire GI tract went into serious distress (I felt like the Pepto Bismol jingle was all about me). My body was MAD at me, that's for sure. My Mum was ready to take me to emergency but Teresa is a marathon veteran (she's done 14) and knew what to do. I spent most of the night on the spinning bathroom floor and didn't really sleep so I was quite out of it for most of Monday.