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.