Touchin' Cotton

In a recent issue of Runner's World a reader who had written in was quoted as saying, "You're not a real runner unless you've pooped while out on a run.  It's a rite of passage!"  Thankfully, this isn't a rite that I have had to go through.  But there have been some close calls.  Today was one of those.  I knew all the crap that I had eaten over the weekend would come back to haunt me.  In particular, the chocolate cake and ice cream that I had eaten not once but twice.  

It's interesting, because I had been a little out of it all day because my allergies have been bothering me the last few days.  Also, I was still a little stiff from Saturday's race.  My fear was that one of these would have been my downfall today.  In fact, earlier in the day, there were a couple of times when I sort of felt like going home and calling off the run all together because my sinuses were so bad.  But I made it through the day, and felt pretty good if not fantastic going into the run.

This was going to be a six-miler.  My running partner, Jennifer, is a little more advanced than I.  She's run a few marathons, and, if I were to guess would say that she's quite comfortable running normally at a 7:15-7:30 pace (sorry if I'm selling you short, Jen).  When we go out we pretty generally stay in the upper half of the 7s.  Generally we're right around 7:40-7:45.  She pushes me much more than I ever push her.  It's great to have her around.  It was especially good today, even though I was a wreck by mile three.

So we start off and I can already tell that I'm going to have to push through some stiffness.  For the first mile I probably looked like a shuffling old man out there.  I was taking very tiny steps right up on the balls of me feet.  It was weird, but my calves we so tight it was all I could do get my heals to touch the ground.  Anyhow, that worked itself out after about two miles, but something else was trying to work itself out too.  The next four miles were going to be touch-and-go.  We run the third mile.  Thing is, I know that if was only walking right now there wouldn't be a problem.  It's my large intestine being jostled to and fro at a 7:45 minute/mile pace that' s making me to feel like I'm going unleash a chocolate dragon in my running shorts.  So I let Jennifer know that when we turn around after the third mile I'm going to have to stop for thirty seconds to take a little breather.  I really hate doing that.  Six miles these days is nothing.  The only reason I should be stopping is for traffic.  Nonetheless, I needed this pain to subside if only for less than minute.  Frankly, I knew it would come back with a vengeance once we started again.

The second half begins with an ever so slight incline that is the bane of my existence even when I don't have to take a chud.  But today every step up this takes just that much more energy and focus that I could be spending on pulling the pucker string.  And this incline honestly lasts for about a third of a mile.  I know, I know.  Boston Marathoners would scoff at a small 600 yard hill, but I was hurtin'.  

At this point, I've allowed the possibility that I may become a "real runner" today to enter my thoughts.  Three issues come immediately to mind when allowing this potentiality.

1. My Running Partner - How would I handle her?  "Please go on ahead, and I'll try to catch up to you."  "Cover your ears please.  I'm just going to go down into this creek for a second."  It's a horrifying thought.  Jennifer and I are good friends, but that's something that I wouldn't want to put either of us through.  Just the thought of having to tell the person that I'm running with that the next thing I'm getting ready to do is drop trow and lay some cable is horrifying.
2. Cleanup - I've always heard stories about people making waste in the woods and the various vegetation they've used to clean themselves with, and each sounds awful in its own way.  There's the one about the guy who unknowingly used poison ivy which led to obvious disaster.  Then I've also heard pine needles which I have never been able understand even remotely how that would work.  It sounds painful and terribly impractical.  Then there's the traditional leaves, and while I guess they would cover a fair amount of surface area they would seem to me terribly unabsorbant.  And you know what?  I still had three miles to run.  Leaves would not have been good.  Clearly, unless I took my shirt off and used that I would not get comfortably clean enough.  And I've already lost one shirt this week.
3. Location - This is a public trail.  It's a nice afternoon.  The thing's being used today.  And this is a trail that runs along the Creek Turnpike so there's rush hour traffic to my north.  To the south of the trail is a pretty solid line of houses.  Most with privacy fences; but still.  But the main problem as I can see it is the poor people who would be running, riding their bike, or taking their kids out for a nice after-school walk looking over and seeing some dude behind a bush droppin' a D.  I could potentially be arrested.

I'm not joking with you, all of these things are going through my head before I was even through that third mile.  It was bad.  I thought it was going to happen.  

Usually when I'm having a bad run a welcome reprieve is when we have to cross a major street at each mile.  We have to stop to look both ways, and at rush hour there can be quite a long pause.  But apropos of the run that I was having there was not a car to be found after mile 4 so we pressed on without pause.  Lucky me.  The silver lining was that I was getting closer.  Two miles.  I can do that backwards in my sleep.  The thing about my running partner pushing me: it's not as though she's a drill sergeant.  She just keeps the pace.  No asking what's the matter.  No looking back when I fall behind.  Once the run is over I always appreciate it.  But during the run I hate it.  I just want to stop and walk the rest of the way, but I can't.  That's something that running with a partner has taught me.  This isn't just my run.  Her miles are just as important to her as mine are to me.  And, let's face it, no one in good conscience would leave another person behind if he were to say, "I'm not feeling so well.  You just go on ahead."  Well, maybe they would.  We are runners after all.  I guess there would be worse things, but I wasn't going to say that.  So I pushed with my legs and lungs, clinched my butt cheeks, and made it through.  Somehow I still averaged a 7:43 pace.  

I didn't become a "real runner" today, but I'm actually pretty happy about that.  So is everyone else who runs that trail.  They just don't know it.