A Cold October Morning

This morning I woke up at 5 a.m., saw that it was 42 degrees outside and had to make a tough decision. Should I:

A. Go for a morning run and freeze my tail off.
B. Rob a bank, run like the wind, and freeze my tail off
or . . .
C. Take a picture of myself and go back to my nice warm bed.

I chose . . . Choice letter "A"



After about 3 minutes, my blood started pumping and I actually felt overheated in my winter gear. At mile #7, we stopped for a minute to rest. I, of course, decided at that point that I needed to find a potty spot. I looked around frantically for a bush to hide behind. It was at that moment that I saw THE SIGN. I had no idea that the city found out about my potty problems and frequent stops along the road. I'm going to have to change my running route ASAP so that none of you will turn me in for the $200 reward.

Real Time in Logan, Utah

Real Time in Logan, Utah
10:00 p.m. Borrowed an alarm clock from Aunt Katie. Set it and reset it for 4 a.m. three different times. Also set the alarm on my cell phone. I am not going to miss this race.
10:30 p.m. Hunkered down under the picnic blanket I brought along to sleep with. It is very itchy. The blowup bed I brought is deflating already. I think I’ll add some more air.
11:00 p.m. Extra air didn’t help. I feel like I’m camping. Five hours till the alarm clock goes off.
12:01 a.m. Cousin Marissa just walked down the hall. Haven’t seen her in years. Got up to give her a hug. Can’t believe I am still awake.
1:00 a.m. Might as well go to the bathroom. See if an empty bladder will help me sleep.
2:14 a.m. Am listening to Donna breathing. Sounds like she’s asleep. What’s wrong with me?
2:32 a.m. I think I may have fallen asleep for a few minutes. Dreamed about crazy monkeys. Really looking forward to choking down that banana and bagel in a few hours for my pre-race carbs.
3:58 a.m. Might as well get up. The alarm is going to go off in 2 minutes anyway.
4:01 a.m. Found out the alarm on my cell phone works!
4:10 a.m. Sitting on the potty saying silent prayers. Sure hope I don’t get Toxic Shock Syndrome during the race from this tampon! How many hours are you supposed to wear these things?
4:20 a.m. Strapped the timing bracelet onto my ankle. Look at myself in the mirror. Ready or not!
4:35 a.m. Deflating a blowup bed is a very noisy process. Hope I don’t wake the whole house up.
4:40 a.m. Carry bed, itchy blanket and bags out to car. Maybe I’ll trip, twist my ankle, and won’t be able to run!
4:45 a.m. Driving towards the bus pick-up. This banana tastes like rotten squash. I sure hope the potassium helps me out today in a big way!
5:00 a.m. Park the Pathfinder in the parking lot. Don’t know what to do with my keys. Don’t want to carry them. Don’t want to put them in my bag (what if they lose it during the race and I can’t get home?!) Stash the keys in the wheel of my tire. Hopefully the car will be here when we get back.
5:15 a.m. Climb aboard the school bus as a group. Donna and I met up with Marissa, Stacey and Amy for the ride up. Laugh and laugh about running potty stories. I’m sure the people around us are dying!
6:00 a.m. One hour till race time. Porta potty line is super long. Still 7 people away from entry. A man’s been in there for a really long time.
6:15 a.m. Porta potty man exits. Terrible fumes exit with him. Everyone is gagging. Should’ve brought air freshener.
6:40 a.m. Finally inside the stinky porta potty. Go, Vanessa, Go!
6:50 a.m. Take all my layers off. Gag down some Cliff Blocks. Shaking from the cold and nerves. Turn the music up. Ready to go!
7:00 a.m. Some pioneers just shot some guns near the starting line. I guess that means, “Run!”
7:15 a.m. Running downhill. Getting a side ache under my ribcage. Doesn’t make sense.
7:30 a.m. Still running with rib ache. Where are all my friends? Keep on running, Vanessa.
7:45 a.m. Tried to drink Gatorade while running. It was red. It didn’t make it into my mouth. Look like I’m bleeding to death.
8:40 a.m. Almost to the ½ marathon point. Marissa just waved as she passed me. She rocks!
8:41 a.m. ½ marathon point. Good pace. Donna just passed me. She is doing awesome! Asked how I am feeling. I can feel the wall coming. My legs feel like rocks!!
8:50 a.m. Have reached the bottom of the mountain pass. No more momentum to push me along. Feeling extremely sluggish.
9:00 a.m. See a lady standing with a beautiful silver tray full of fruit. Maybe an orange will help give me some more energy.
9:13 a.m. Orange did not help. Need to find restroom fast.
9:16 a.m. Porta potty ahead. Uh, oh. There’s only one porta potty and people in lawn chairs lined up right beside it watching the race. How embarrassing!
9:17 a.m. It was embarrassing!
10:00 a.m. I now feel like I’d like to quit. I am no longer running. I wouldn’t even call it shuffling.
10:05 a.m. Just saw Rachel from the gym. She isn’t actually in the race, just helping to pace her friend. She asked how I was doing. I feel like crying. I am crying.
10:22 a.m. Just asked a stranger what time it is. 2.6 miles left to go. Don’t know if I can do it.
10:25 a.m. An annoying 16 year old boy keeps passing me. He is breathing very heavily and chanting to himself. Can’t people suffer in silence?!
10:39 a.m. One more mile left to go. Longest mile of my life.
10:50 a.m. Crossed the finish line. The clock said 3:48:blah, blah, blah. 3 minutes shy of Boston qualification. Shouldn’t have eaten the orange. Shouldn’t have used the porta potty. Probably have Toxic Shock Syndrome. Please remind me never to do this again.
11:15 a.m. Laying on grass looking at the beautiful blue sky. Feel sick to my stomach. Can feel blisters on my feet.
11:30 a.m. Pick up my duffel bag. Limp back to the car. It’s still there!
12:00 (Noon) Call Aaron to tell him about race.
12:30 p.m. Making plans for a marathon in April. I know . . . I know . . . I know . . .

Watch out, Logan, Utah!

The Logan Marathon is less than 24 hours away. Many thoughts are flitting through my head: "Why did I sign up for this marathon? Why do people pay good money to be put through pain? Did I train enough? Should I have eaten those pinto beans last night? Am I going to die?"

People have died during/after a marathon. The thought of my heart giving out after a 26.2 mile run used to frighten me, but now I'm starting to think it may be a good way to go. At least I'd die with a finisher's medal around my neck, and I'd probably get in the newspaper. But I digress . . .

I am trying to rest my legs for Saturday morning. I have not run now for almost 3 days. I cheated a little bit today though and ran alongside, Carson, who is still learning to ride his 2 wheeler bicycle. He ran into me a couple of times with his bicycle, I almost twisted my ankle falling off the sidewalk trying to save him, and I think I may have thrown my back out leaning over to help him steer. Probably not the best choice of activities before a marathon.

P.S. I am also having pains in my right knee and the arch of my left foot today. Hopefully they are phantom pains and not reasons to see an orthopedic surgeon! You'll hear from me after the marathon! For those of you that know me well -- I am bringing a pair of gloves -- just in case!

My Favorite Chevron

Because of my Runner's Runs ailment, I have been forced to make new routes that include potty pitstops.

I decided first, to form a foolproof, no accidents in the pants circular route that led me past a laundromat every 2 1/2 miles. Who can't make it 2 1/2 miles without using the restroom?! Well, this worked for awhile. I would run the loop until my stomach started rumbling, race into the laundromat restroom, use the john, and run back out. The laundromat restroom was the perfect location. The best part was, no one ever did laundry at 5 a.m., so the restroom was always available. Then one day, there was a kink in my perfect plan. I ran into the restroom, sat down and was shocked to see there was no toilet paper! I figured a homeless person must have stolen it. The next day, I outsmarted the thief. I brought my own toilet paper! This continued for weeks: bathroom still always available WITHOUT toilet paper. I made it work. I looked a little chubbier running with a wad of toilet paper in my shorts, but I didn't care! Then, to my chagrin, one early morning, I raced up to the door, but when I tried to swing it open, I realized the door was locked. There was a note on the door that said, "Due to recent THEFTS, the laundromat will no longer open until 7 a.m.!" How could they do this to me? I felt a surge of anger towards the toilet paper thief. Was he/she to blame for my "no more laundromat potty predicament?!" Or perhaps, they thought I was the thief!

Well, I was forced to switch my route. I found a very nice, clean Chevron that opens early, smells fabulous, and has sparkling clean toilets. The Chevron is about 5 miles into my route. I decided to give this new run a try. Most days, I made it the 5 miles with no accidents (I won't mention the time I didn't make it to the Chevron and went potty in someone's driveway.)! True, it wasn't as convenient as the laundromat, but I'd make it work. The first time I walked into the Chevron, I was wearing my too short purple running shorts with my pink WonderWoman water belt around my waist. I looked down at the ground as I scurried towards the restroom, hoping the workers wouldn't notice me. I used the facilities, made sure the toilet was good as new (this Chevron even provides toilet cleaning brushes for those that make a mess), and headed out. The lady at the cash register gave me the eye. "Who does this sweaty girl think she is, using my toilet and not purchasing anything?!" I could feel her disapproval.

Two days later, I decided to try the route to Chevron again. As I saw my reflection in the glass door at the front of the store, I realized I was once again dressed in my too short purple running shorts (freshly laundered of course!) and my WonderWoman utility belt. Oh, how embarrassing. I prayed silently that the same cashier from two days previous, would not be working and see me in my outfit. She'd be sure to recognize me. Luck was not on my side. I tried to ease around the chip and pretzel display instead of taking the direct route to the restroom. As I peeked over the Lays Potato Chips, I saw the cashier's eyes boring into me. I hurried into the bathroom, hoping she wouldn't follow me inside to tell me I was no longer welcome in their facility.

I once again thoroughly enjoyed the sparkly toilets and exited with no sign of the bathroom police. I decided to try a different tactic on my way out of the store. Maybe if I was super friendly, I'd be welcomed back each morning with open arms. I smiled at the cashier and said, "Thank you. Have a great day!"

"Thank you. Have a great day?" Are you kidding me? Did those words really come out of my mouth? I had just thanked the Chevron lady for the use of her toilet. I was mortified. I waited for her reaction. There was none. Not a smile. Not a, "You are welcome." Nothing.

That night I wondered what the Chevron people would do to get rid of me -- the sweaty girl in the too short purple shorts. Would they too stop providing toilet paper? Would they put a sign on the restroom door that reads, "We don't want your gas. Buy ours instead?" Or perhaps they would just lock their doors like the laundromat owner in hopes of getting rid of the early morning jogger with the runner's runs. No matter. For now, it is still my favorite Chevron!

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.