Beer Mile 2015

November 28, 2015

1st Beer Mile

Time: 32:24

Beer: regular Budweiser (yuck)

That's Emily

 Here's how the beer mile goes down: You place 4 of your own beers at the sideline of a track. You drink a beer as quickly as you can, run a lap and repeat 3 more times. The beer must be at minimum 5% ABV and it's best warm as there is less carbonation. The goal is to be first, finish, and not puke. If you puke you take a penalty lap.

Not even drunk yet and looking whacked out

We all (about 8 of us) grabbed our beers and started drinking as the time keeper yelled, "go!" I finished a few seconds before Emily and as I was finishing some were already on their second. I knew I was doomed. As a slow runner to begin with I wasn't too upset or intimidated. The difference is that there is always someone slower than me. Not this time. 

My firs lap around the track was OK. The beer hadn't had time yet to do any damage. I spent most of my quarter mile trying to burp. It was that dead burp that never comes out. As I was getting lapped and trying to burp I wondered how I was going to hang in.

I drank my second beer, s l o w l y. As I started my lap I could actually feel the fizzing liquid sloshing around in my belly. I have never before felt anything like that. Is that what it's like to be pregnant? Feeling something in there? And yes I know, I took 5th grade  health class; the baby isn't in your stomach. I rounded the corner and finally burped! It wasn't loud and guttural it was like one giant burst that shook my upper body. More new experiences! OK, I was going to make it! OK, maybe not. It's amazing all the things that can go through one's mind in the course of a quarter mile. 

I grabbed my third beer and drank cautiously while letting out more burps. I could taste the pasta salad I had a few hours prior. The more I thought about my food the more I wanted to throw up.  Most of the others were already done. I was pitiful. I ran on my toes, barely swinging my arms. And I was off.

I was seriously considering giving up, or cutting across the field and hoping no one would notice. I kept thinking of all the homework I had to do the next day. How I couldn't be sick in bed? My mind wandered off to all the times I felt sick from drinking. I didn't want that! I don't miss it! What was I doing? I decided to take a DNF (did not finish) and made the announcement when I finished the third lap.

the cheering squad

This is what I love about runners: no matter what we are all in the race together and we encourage one another even as strangers. They all encouraged me to keep going. I didn't actually feel nauseous, I was just being cautious. I decided to go for it! I don't want to give up on stuff that I start. I drank my beer and cheered on Emily as she came in to a nice finish. Then I took off and one of the spectators, wearing boots, decided to run with me. I tippy toed around the track again with a stiff body trying not to trigger vomit. 

the winners!

I ran it in to a cheering crowd. Everyone got a finishers medal. Emily got a special one for drinking craft beer and my last lap partner got one for running in her boots. 

So where did we all go after? To a bar of course! I only had food though until we got to the second bar where I had the worst pumpkin beer ever. I don't drink much any more. It's usually one or two beers. Good beers, not the cheap crap I drank in my 20s. I am surprised slamming 4 in 32 minutes didn't knock me off my ass. But it didn't. I didn't feel that fabulous the next day but I was functional.