The Alpenrose 6 Day
(My Alpenrose Shits Days)

So, I wake up Monday feeling a little better, but decide it's best to go to the doctor. She says it's a virus, sends me on my way. Tells me to get lots of electrolytes and to grab a stool kit from the lab on my way out... just in case.

I call Haley and she says she had a stomach flu all weekend, as did what we found out later in the week to be 5 other teachers as well. Super. Misery loves company and we share our version of the killer virus, then wish each other a good week.

I call Dairen and tell her that I'm going to go for it. We'll race. I'll go easy that night. I'm not going to let this virus keep me from the first women's field 6-day in 99 years.

Monday night we manage to get down 2 laps- not a good start, but that's OK. I'll feel better the next day and we'll be fine.


Huh? Team China? But we're not Chinese and we're definitely not on the Chinese national team. Yes, Darien's friend from work found them at Nike in some marketing stuff for the Olympics. We wore them Monday for shits and giggles (yes, shits is a pun here). They were a hit. "Nee How! (Hi in Chinese)" Tuesday I was first to the track and wore my Livestrong kit, because it was MUCH more comfortable. Everyone was sad wanting to know, "Where's Team China?" So from Wednesday on, we gladly squeezed ourselves (the Chinese are not very big people) into our Team China kits and it was fun. Thanks Tony Halford for the cool photo.

Tuesday and Wednesday not so fine with the devil virus. I race like shit, I feel like shit, and I the morning, I deliver the shit... diawoowoo!

I got a chance to watch track racing from a new perspective- the bad of the pack. It's SO bad. I have nothing, since my body is a) calorie deficient and b) fighting the viral monster eating my gut. I got down 4 laps in two mass start races. 4. That's 2 laps in a 20 lap points race and another 2 in some other race.

Thursday night I actually feel OK. I had some of Jen's lasagna and ceaser salad after racing. Yum. Next morning (actually before morning- I had to wake up and jump in the shower at 4 am- thank god I sleep on my side)...diawoowoo.

Friday night, Jen makes some awesome pasta and lightly stirfried veggies. Saturday morning...diawoowoo.

Saturday morning I decide I've had enough diawoowoo-woowoo. I email doctor. Lucky for me she must be at the computer and responds for me to do the sample kit the next morning

GROSSEST THING IN THE WORLD! Seriously. It's not just poo in a tub and seal it up. No! I had to poo in a small tub (gagging) and then SCOOP the poo into a little jar (choking) and stir the shit up! UUUUGGGGHHHHHH! I drive the stinkywoowoo to the lab this morning and the phlebotomist (cool word- had to throw it in) hands me another tub. This one won't be so bad. This will be an easy poo in the tub and seal that shit up.

And to round out my Sunday morning, I went to Walmart. The mission was to find a window air conditioner. Stupid ting doesn't fit, so I get to take it back. But as I loafed around the super center, I discovered what I wish I would have thought of earler in the week- baby food!

I struggled with the most creative title for this long overdue post...

Runnin' Around....no

Sewage In, Sewage Out... no

When you're sliding into first, and your pants're 'bout to burst....no

I finally decided on:

IT'S BEEN A SHITTY WEEK

Let's go back 9 days. I'm driving to San Jose to their AVC with Larssyn and Jeanie in the car. All's well, until we stop at a rest area in No-Cal and I'm like- that's weird, I have total diawoowoo (that's my new pet name for it.)

For the next 3 days, life is shitty. I slept under an oak tree for two hours across the parking lot from the track as racers came and got ready. I was able to watch some racing. Now, at this time, I'm thinking that the Sushi I ate at the Medford Fred Meyer's was the culprit, so I'm certain I'll feel up to racing Saturday.

Saturday morning, it's HOT, so maybe I had a fever, who knows, but I suited up, warmed up, and sucked it up and in. My blistering 13.9 second 200m. is about a half second slower than a decent 200m at Alpenrose- the slowest track in the country. Well, that landed me 11th of 12 in the sprints. I had 3 lame sprints, going to the infield after each one and curling into a hot ball of crampiness and hate for whatever was in my belly!

I decide to skip the racing Saturday night. During the break, Jeanie put up with my crampy, gassy, groaning self. We go to Jamba Juice to slurp on about the only thing I've had an appetite for. No worries, because I'll feel better tomorrow for the ride home. (foreshadow hint- scroll down to see how long this post is.)

And the next morning, I felt great. I was irritated that I drove 600 miles to watch a bunch of bike racing, while wiggling to the port-o-john about every 5 minutes and leaving in the bowl a creamy green specimen for all the world to notice, since they don't flush, and by then everyone knew my condition, since they were curious why I wasn't racing. But I'm happy to be feeling better at Starbucks with my yummy breakfast sandwich and latte. Finally I had an appetite.

Fast Forward 2 hours. Sacramento Walgreens (yes, we missed the 505 turnoff from Oakland). Pepto Bismal and a pharmacist who says it will totally help... and then an upward explosive relinquishment of that yummy breakfast sandwich- nothing like yacking in a public toilet. Puke- n- rally dudes!

The next ten hours included a visit to every rest area from Sacramento to Eugene, where I finally began to feel better. We also stoppped in MT. Shasta city, where I nibbled on some KCF mash potatoes. I called the advice nurse at Kaiser and she tells me to quit drinking Pepto and begin the BRAT diet- bread, rice, applesauce, and toast. A quick stop at Shopko in Eugene to get some supplies, which included liners for the damn granny panties I'd be sporting the rest of the night. I had to sprinkle in that detail so that you really got the picture and an assumed definition of SHAT- if you had not one.

A quick time out for Jeanie who drove most of the way home and put up with me. What a great friend.

By the time I got home, I felt a bit better and decided to go to the doctor to see what she said.

To Be Continued....
Next on Heather's blog: Hello, my name is shata-lotta-lasagna.