Why Am I Doing This?

On Saturday morning, my alarm clock started to buzz insistently. I reached over to hit the snooze and saw the red numbers glaring at me: 4:00 a.m. My brain was still fuzzy. Why was the alarm clock going off this early? What was I supposed to be doing at 4 a.m.? Could I just turn over and go back to sleep?

Then I remembered, I had to meet Amy and Marisa at 4:45 to go for a 20 mile run. I slowly dragged my body out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet the "running isn't good for you" part of my brain thought, "Why are you doing this, Vanessa? You got 4 hours of sleep last night, your legs are already fatigued, and you've got a busy day with the kids today. You should just go back to bed." I sighed as I stood up and headed towards the sink. I looked at my bedraggled self in the mirror, pulled my red running hat onto my mop of hair, and started brushing my teeth. My fellow runners were waiting for me. I might as well get the show on the road.

We ran up Provo Canyon together that morning. The three of us side by side. My breathing was heavy and I had trouble making my legs move. I could feel the lack of sleep weighing on me. I could also feel the piece of whole wheat toast I'd eaten for breakfast about to come up. "Why are you doing this, Vanessa?" again came to mind.

At about mile 6 or 7, Marisa was feeling strong, so she took off while Amy and I continued our journey up the canyon together. We stopped at some restrooms at a campground to relieve ourselves. I apologized to Amy profusely from my stall: "I am so sorry about all the gas passing and diahrrea noises coming from in here!" She kindly said she didn't mind. These "runner's potty moments" have really taught me the ultimate in humiliation. Since getting married 15 years ago, I haven't even wanted my husband to know that I poo let alone pass any unfeminine noises. I always go into the bathroom at home, turn on the fan and some running water to cover up any sounds, wait until the bathroom completely airs out, and then retreat quickly as if nothing unseemly occurred in there. However, since my "runner's runs" have begun, I have endured the humiliation of others knowing when and where I poo. As I sat on the pot with Amy in the next stall, I thought again, "Vanessa, why are you doing this?"

As we continued up the mountain, we saw many other runners out "enjoying" the fresh mountain air. We ran up a path surrounded by trees. Mountains peeked out above us. There was even a waterfall. We were part of nature. When we reached Vivienne Park and turned around, we had only 8 miles to go. I felt a strange surge of adrenaline as I realized we were well over our halfway point. We could do this!

There were highs and lows on our way back down the canyon. At moments we felt like talking, at other moments, we silently endured. When we had only 4 miles left to go, I looked at Amy and actually voiced my thoughts aloud, "Why are we doing this?"

Neither of us answered the question out loud but both of us knew. We run because it is good for our hearts. We run because of the adrenaline high we feel when we cross the finish line. We run because we can eat a huge meal that night and not feel the slightest sense of guilt. We run because running keeps us sane. We run because it's free. We run because we can.

The Funnel

(I am now taking contributions for a trip to the Boston Marathon. My dad gave me my first dollar after the race today. At this rate . . .)

I ran the Hobble Creek 1/2 Marathon this morning. My nerves were out of control as usual. I went to the restroom twice at home and was also successful in the porta potty located near the starting line. I figured my bowels were pretty much sure to be empty. For those of you that don't know, I am well known for my bouts with the Runner's Runs.

I began the race with a surge of adrenaline (helped along by the 50 mg. of caffeine in some cherry flavored Sports Beans). I dodged around some other runners, feeling nimble as a deer, or at least maybe like a German Shepherd or something. I trotted over some potholes and dashed past some rocks in the road. The morning sun was just beginning to peak around the trees and there was a slight breeze in the air. Wow, I felt good.

At mile 5 my legs started to weaken. The caffeine from the sports beans was wearing off already. Luckily I had some more beans stashed in my shorts' pouch. I reached in to grab a couple. They slipped through my fingers onto the pavement. Luckily, I felt 2 more bouncing around in the pouch. I willed my fingers to grasp the red magic beans tightly and somehow got them into my mouth. Oh, yeah. I could taste the energy going down my throat. I was going to make it. Only 8.1 more miles to go.

By the time I got to the 10 K marker, I was done. Should I just quit now? My throat was parched. My legs were dead tired. I had started the race too quickly and was paying severely for it. Then I saw a water station ahead. If I could just make it to that kid with the cup. Yes! I did it! I grabbed the cup and tipped it up to the corner of my mouth just like the Runner's Magazine tells you to. Most of the water went into my mouth and down my throat. A success. Then a tramatic thing occurred. I felt the water that I had just pored into my mouth, running into my shorts. My bladder had released and I had peed all over myself. Well, this was a new humiliation that I had never experienced before. Normally, I have the "runs". Now it seems I had lost control of my entire body! What was going on?!

I continued on, already smelling myself. I stunk like a child that is being potty trained, whose mother leaves him in his wet undees to teach him a lesson. I tried to look on the bright side -- only about half way to go to the finish line.

The sun was getting brighter. My throat was so dry. I knew I'd have to stop for another drink. I was kind of excited. It would be like an experiment to see if I could drink without peeing. At the next water station I grabbed another cup of water and poured it down my throat. It happened almost instantly. Pee running down my legs. What was happening? Had I turned into a funnel? Pour water into the top and watch it trickle out the bottom. It was a new low for me.

My new loss of bladder control kept my mind off the pain of the race. My brain flitted from question to question. Would I have to get surgery? Maybe I could look into some bladder control panties or pads to wear during races? Perhaps I would learn to enjoy peeing on myself?

When I crossed the finish line, I was proud to hit a new PR: 1:36. The joy I should've felt, was decreased significantly however, by the fact that I can no longer drink a glass of H20 during a race. I am now, officially, a funnel.