I found a puke-buddy in my little group of dropped girls, she felt at least as horrible as I did. We kept vomiting on the road, over ourselves and our bikes.
What was happening, we were asking ourselves. The heat? Normally that doesn’t bother me at all. The food in the hotel? We weren’t staying in the same hotel. A combination of things? We couldn’t figure it out, we just concluded we both looked grey in the face of misery and we promised each other to survive this stage and to feel better tomorrow.
Long story short: we got to the finish line. At a snail’s pace, feeling as weak as a wet towel. We tried to drink as much as possible to make sure we wouldn’t get dehydrated. I had to throw away my bottle a couple of times because there was puke all over it – hers or mine, I didn’t know.