I met Bain at the usual spot at the usual time for the usual run. This time we headed out on the Connector Trail and ran south along the Towpath. I found Peter Towpath's initials carved in a tree and immediately bored it away with my marlin spike and wrote my initials in its place. We continued on our way and I began to have some stomach issues; my tummy began to burn, but I thought it would go away. Bain headed back via the CCT bridge while I continued south to Fletchers. I proceeded back along the Palisades Trail, but stopped outright when my stomach began to burn more than usual. I thought the feeling would again pass, but after repeated attempts to start back up, I had to stop and walk. This wasn't a "bathroom" pain, but a acid-like fire that burned somewhere in my lower stomach. It felt awful. I couldn't even shuffle since the bouncing caused great pain. I contemplated running to Matt Ernst's house and begging a ride home, but there was Ernst Hill between me and Ernst House and no assurance he would be there. Besides, I thought, the pain would pass. Hours later I marched out of the Capital Crescent. I had walked back about 3.5 miles and was beat and demoralized. I was so sick of walking. I hate walking. Walking sucks. It's brutal and boring. I was passed by a million runners and bikers. I began to curse at people walking, people with WALKmans, the idea of a boardWALK and even threw a stone at a hawk, simply because the species rhymed with walk. By 10pm, by stomach was still burning and I have no idea why. I did nothing out of the ordinary this afternoon. Go figure. This was my 3rd run in 15 years that I was not able to complete.