Following my recent race report, I've been accused of making the 24-hour sound "quite nice". In reality, the aftermath was much less pleasant than the event itself.
When I finished the race, I was congratulated by an official from UKA ...only to be informed that I was selected for random drug testing. I thought this would have been a simple affair. Wrong. I was whisked off to a campervan, where I had to be helped up the two steps. Sonic was required to join me as my official witness. I had to fill in numerous forms, sign confessions, declare all medical consumption and wear surgical gloves to open and close various tubs and tubes. Then the representative had to escort me in the portaloo to watch me wee. Quite literally watch me. I would have been mortified, but I was totally passed caring. At first I thought I was going to have stage fright or be too dehydrated to perform, but when it started flowing I didn't think I would stop. So I was standing squealing and cursing as the tub overflowed and covered my clothes. After wearing the same pants and tights for 24 hours, I doubt it would have made any difference.
Anyway the result was so horrifying it deserved a picture for the blog. This is quite special, don't you think? More water, less coke maybe?
(Yes, this was my first post-race pee!)
After my ordeal was over and I was seated and covered in a blanket to control the shivering, I watched the GM violently puke in a bucket before her lifeless body we carted off to the hotel. She has turned a cartoon-style colour of green. I thought it was quite comical that Val and Sue (team Scotland volunteers) had to strip her and put her in the bath. Until of course Sonic had to get me out of the bath, dry me and put my underwear on. Ah, the romance.
After I was escorted to bed and slept for about 20 mins (damn that adrenaline!) - and the majority of that was spent trying to turn over - we went out for nice Italian meal. It more a case of devouring every carb on the menu. We were so scooped, we couldn't even finish a GLASS of wine. I've never been know not to finish a BOTTLE of wine.
And this, dear reader, is the classy restaurant exit of the international athletes...
That evening my calves and ankles became one - and ballooned quite specularly. Sonic woke at 3am to find me clutching the door frame of the bathroom and wailing about how it took me 30 minutes to get there. I needed assistance for quite a few days and got lots of bizarre looks when shuffling about the streets.
My legs took about a week to resume normal shape and my "cankles" were the joke of the office for a few days. Thankfully, they took pity on me and published a nice story. I think the Editor felt obliged :-)