This morning, I ran 10 miles on Bayshore. It was a little warm, but I was out there between 10 and noon.

I saw several friends as I hoofed it without incident on the sidewalk. Believe me, I was nervous, still traumatized from my many scars.

I had a couple of miles to go when I caught up with running guru Bill Ward. Or rather, he caught up to me.

So I asked his advice about running next weekend’s Gasparilla Marathon.

Do I want to? Yes.

Am I terrified? Yes.

I’m not in it just to finish it. I’m in it to win it (aka qualify for Boston).

Once I realized I wasn’t running Rock ‘n’ Roll, my training deteriorated. Through December, I was on pace and ready to go. Once January hit, coming off the holidays and eating everything in sight caught up to me. The cold weather made it tough to get out of bed, let alone run.

But I’ve got five 20-milers under my belt.

Yet I’m worried that I won’t be able to hold the pace I need to hit 3:40.

Then Bill gave me the best piece of advice I could get: Watch the weather forecast.

If I’ll be running in temps less than 65 degrees with minimal humidity, I’ll go for it. If it’s wetter and warmer, I should rethink the race.

So far, it looks like Storm Team 8 is predicting a low of 51 and a high of 70 with no chance for rain. Let’s see if we can improve upon that.

After parting ways, I started to feel light-headed and dizzy. Then came a wave of nausea.

Gross!

As I stood there dripping wet from sweat, I self-diagnosed minor dehydration.

So I went home and checked out my symptoms on WebMD.

Turns out it could be anything from heat exhaustion or anemia caused by an iron deficiency to a heart attack or kidney failure!

I decided to drink everything I could get my hands on (well, not my rum this time) and relax for the rest of the day.

Except I went to Publix to get some food, and I started sweating bullets as I was checking out. My head felt funny. Not good.