An Open Letter of Apology

During the last three and a half years that I have been a runner, I have occasionally found times for careful introspection. Recently in one of these introspective moments I looked deep into my soul and I found a fault. Not a substantial fault, but rather, some minor ugliness that wasn’t easily brushed aside by my typically aloof conscience. It gnawed at me for a good thirty seconds before I realized that the ugliness occurred in a public setting and it should be dealt with and apologized for in the same manner. The ugliness of which I speak? Peeing during my long runs.

To the two gentlemen building a swing set in their back yard who witnessed me peeing in the park, I apologize. It was unfortunate that I did not notice you before I started peeing and even more unfortunate that you DID notice me. Next time I shan’t whistle while I work so you’ll be less likely to spot me. Furthermore, I apologize to anyone who used the slide at the park later that day.

To the little girl in pigtails who was riding her bike and saw me peeing on that tree, I apologize. Ringing your bell and pedaling faster won’t make that memory go away. I apologize to you and to your parents who will have to deal with the emotional scarring and the therapy sessions.

To my fellow runner who saw me trying to dry the pee stain on the front of my shorts by vigorously rubbing the crotch, I apologize. It didn’t immediately occur to me how that must have looked to you, but rest assured I was trying to avoid embarrassment by drying the front of my pants, I was not ‘doing myself a favor’ as you succinctly put it.

To the elderly couple who saw me peeing off the side of the footbridge, I apologize, even though I’m sure you don’t think it necessary. Surely, no one understands better than the elderly that sometimes you can’t hold it any longer. Thank you for your understanding, and for averting your eyes.

To the female cyclist who startled me as I peed crouching behind a bush, I apologize. My remark for you to “take a picture it will last longer” was totally uncalled for and simply a knee jerk response to you seeing me peeing.

To the woman walking her dog downwind from where I was peeing, I apologize. It was unfortunate and completely unintentional that your Basset Hound took a direct hit and although I’m quite certain that he’s peed on my mailbox and deserved it, I was unaware that the wind could push the sprayback that far across the path.

To the owner of the lovely house that is situated at mile 7 of my favorite running trail, I apologize for the sorry state of the flowers that are now all but dead. It is an unfortunate coincidence that I always feel the need to pee when I run past your backyard and I assure you that it is in no way connected to the Yankees windsock that hangs on your porch. I apologize if I’ve caused you to question your gardening skills and assure you that there really isn’t anything wrong with the soil in that particular window box.

To the owner of the Ford Truck that is always parked half way up the curb on Reed Street, I apologize. You may have found yourself stepping in a puddle when entering or exiting your vehicle. There’s something about seeing Calvin peeing on a Chevy logo that reminds me that I need to go too.

To the first golfer to retrieve his ball from the hole on the 14th green I do apologize. The green is so nicely secluded among the trees and I can’t explain why it’s so much fun to pee into the cup while yelling “hole in one!” I apologize for my immaturity, I’ll try to grow up, and I’m sorry about the way your ball smells for the remainder of your round.

To the losers skateboarders who like to smoke pot and cigarettes while sitting around the big oak tree just off the school grounds, I apologize. You may have recently taken a seat and found it to be a little damp in spite of the recent lack of rain. I hope that having your pants so low helped you to notice it was wet sooner than someone with a regular waistline might have noticed. At least you’ve got that going for you, also please take this into consideration before deciding to re-use any of the old butts around the base of the tree, though this should really go without saying.

To the young boys who were unfortunate enough to witness me performing a range and targeting test on a warm evening in June, I apologize. In the future I’ll be sure the area is clear before commencing a weapons test. I also apologize to their parents who will no doubt be forced to clean up after they try their own weapons test, but let’s face it, they were going to think of it at some point anyway.

To the brave firemen who drove past me while I was peeing on a hydrant, I apologize. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I also apologize for signaling for you to sound the horn and shouting “I bet you’ve never seen a hose this big before!” It was completely uncalled for and I fully intend to wash off that hydrant before you need to use it again. I’ll let you know when I get around to it.

To anyone on the Denver Half Marathon course in 2007 who was desperate enough for hydration to pick up a used Gatorade cup from under the tree in the park, I apologize. It may have once been Gatorade, it was in me, but it had to come out.

To the cute blond running in the black skirt and pink tank top, I apologize. I know it’s too late now, but I instantly regretted saying “how YOU doin’?” when you saw me peeing behind that park bench.

To the entire Eagle Creek Elementary School who caught me on the field making a creek on their eagle, I apologize. I had no idea that you were about to come out for recess and I was not able to stop midstream. When does school get out for Winter Break anyway?

Finally, to my shoes, who always find themselves situated in the splash zone, I apologize.

Slippery When Wet

Denver Half Marathon Race Report

Editors Note: This is going to be a long post, so grab a cup of coffee, sit back and relax with your feet up. Tell your secretary to hold all calls and ask your boss to come back at a better time.

I was the only runner not smart enough to wear long sleeves.

I stood with the huddled masses, shivering at the start as the rain drizzled down around us. It was 41 degrees and I was leaning close to the other runners, soaking up as much of their heat as I could. As we breathed into our hands and bounced to keep warm it struck me as ironic that only a week ago runners in Chicago were faced with overwhelming heat and not enough water. In Denver there was so much water it was falling from the sky.

I was stuck at the back of the pack on account of my bladder deciding that it was too full just minutes before we were called to the start. I can see the 9 minute pace corral way up ahead of me but I can’t get to it. It’s OK because my race strategy is to run at a slower pace for the first 4 miles and put myself 2 minutes behind the required pace for a sub 2 hour half marathon. After mile 4 I intended to pick up the pace and make up those 2 minutes over the next 9.1 miles.

The gun goes off and a minute later I’m shuffling towards the start I put my headphones in and select my Denver Half Marathon playlist. I eventually cross the start and immediately find myself leaping over discarded sweatshirts, pants, rain jackets, ponchos, trash bags with arm holes, and even a pair of underwear. I guess they were chafing someone. It only takes a mile for me to become completely soaked which is a relief. I enjoy running in the rain, it’s just the initial getting wet part that sucks. Now that I’ve got that out of the way I can focus on my race.

At 3 miles I check my watch and find that I’m already 2 minutes behind the pace for a sub 2 hour marathon so I begin to increase my tempo. At this point I’m quite happy about the slow start as I have NEVER been able to start a race slowly and then speed up, I’m apparently more of a start-quickly-and-fade guy.

Just past Mile 4 Cheer Team Vanilla is waving, yelling, taking pictures and ringing those annoying cowbells. Who got those things for them? Not only did they stand out in the rain and meet me at the finish they were also willing to carb load with me the night before. Way to take one for the team. Shortly after this point my bladder (which I’m thinking about having removed) decided that it needs to be emptied again, but it will have to wait.

Having already run through the first two water stops without taking any liquids I decide that I had better grab some at mile 5 despite my bladder’s continued pleas to be emptied. By mile 6 I’m running through city park, where I am no longer sheltered by the high rise buildings. The wind is biting through my wet clothes and I pretty sure that my nipples could cut glass at this point. I check my watch and I’m only 1 minute behind a sub 2 hour pace, which means that I’m making up time nicely. I reach out to take a Clif Shot and the girl hands me three. I glance at the flavor to see what I’ve been handed and it’s Vanilla. It may sound stupid, but cold and wet and 6 miles deep into a half marathon I felt like it was a sign. It was like the sun was bursting through the clouds and angels were singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” Only there was no sun, only rain. I downed one of the shot gels, put one in my pocket for later and tossed the third one back towards the girl who’d handed it to me.

By mile 7 I wasn’t paying attention to my MP3 player, I wasn’t thinking about how cold or tired I was. I was simply weighing the pros and cons of peeing my pants. The fact that running can put you in a situation that allows you to even consider this as a viable option is probably grounds for quitting. My shoes were already soaked, and if my shorts would have been wet enough to hide it I would have probably just peed myself.

I reached mile 8 and had almost dropped back to 2 minutes off the pace again. I was extremely disheartened and began to doubt my ability to finish in under 2 hours. Mile 9 had a couple of tough uphill sections and I felt sure that my pace had fallen again. The rain and cold got to me and I decided to stop and pee in Cheesman Park. Hoping to take no more than 15 seconds I found a nice bushy tree, I ducked under the branches and... Holy Shrinkage Batman! 45 seconds later I was back on the course and feeling much better.

‘Come on Vanilla’ I told myself, and yes I actually said Vanilla instead of Ian, because I was trying to remind myself that I’d have to blog about how I failed. I don’t know if it was the fact that I was carrying 7 less pounds of urine or if the 45 second break recharged me, but I was running strong. There was a hill at mile 10 but I didn’t even feel it, I was passing people like they were volcanic lava. I passed mile 11 without looking at my watch, it didn’t matter, I was just running. I grabbed a Gatorade and splashed it up my nose and down my front, it didn’t matter. I was running, I was Forrest Gump.

At mile 12 I did look at my watch: 1:50:06. All I needed was a 9 minute pace. I felt like I was on the verge of achieving my goal. I was willing myself to the finish. With less than a half mile to go I was only conscious of my legs as those weights beneath my hips. I crossed the finish line and stopped my watch at 1:59:42. Initial feelings of disbelief turned momentarily to elation and pride before giving way to uncontrollable shivering and icy pain.

Tomorrow I’ll have some more pictures and more on the post race thaw. Update: Here

The Longest Run of my Life

On Sunday I had the longest run of my life. I began running at one o'clock in the afternoon when the sun was high and the sky was cloudless. I would finish 12 miles later and feel like it had taken days to complete. (It didn't take days, but it did take long enough that you won't see the actual time in this post, if you want that info you'll have to check back at the end of September in the Personal Running Log.) The temperature was 88 degrees but I wasn't worried. I'd been hydrating properly and Pat had really made me feel like a wuss when he mentioned on his blog that he likes to wait until the temperature drops to around 101 before he goes out running. I think maybe he lives in hell. The plan was to run a 6 mile loop twice, which would allow me to grab a Clif shot and some water at the house after 6 miles, because I hate carrying that stuff with me when I run. What am I, a mule?

The first 5 miles went by slowly, but generally without incident. I didn't even get mad at the motorist who blazed through the crosswalk ahead of me. Then, as I began to approach home - the halfway point - my body began to tell me that we were almost done. "No! We're not! We're almost HALFWAY done," I reiterated. My body was having none of it. My legs knew this stretch of road was always the final stretch, they knew that they were supposed to be tired by now. This internal debate went on for almost a quarter mile with my legs insisting that they were almost done and ready to stop, and my mind trying to override my body's desire to quit. Then out of nowhere my body played its trump card; "not only are we done running, but now you have to pee!" What?!? Awww man! Well played. Now I have to go inside, making it more likely that I'll call it good at 6 miles.

My body however, is seriously underestimating how badly I want to complete this 12 mile run. I get back to my house, grab the drink and Clif shot that I left on the porch all the while jogging in place. I jog into the house to... "wow, it sure is nice and cool in here, I mean it's almost chilly," it feels like a refreshing swimming pool on a hot day. Focus. Still jogging in place I head into the nearest bathroom, and determined to not lose my rhythm I attempt to jog in place while I pee. Bad idea. Do you remember that scene in Backdraft when the firemen lost control of the hose and it was spraying water everywhere? Yeah, it looked exactly like that but with pee... and a longer hose. (Lying.)

Now my body thinks it's won because I'm going to have to clean up that mess and you surely can't jog in place and clean up pee, but once again my body has underestimated how badly I want to complete this run. Because I'm in the kid's bathroom I just leave the mess knowing that my 4 year old will likely take the fall for it, while claiming he didn't do it and being scolded for lying. It's OK. It will teach him a valuable lesson that life isn't fair and that authority figures can't always be trusted. It's a brilliant idea, but hold on to your shorts because I'm not done with brilliant ideas yet.

I head downstairs, remove my shirt, turn on the fan, and finish my run in the cool basement on our treadmill. I'd run shirtless outside but I'd have to carry a stick to beat off women, plus I've been warned before about the glare that it causes for passing motorists. Checkmate. My body has no response, superior intellect has once again triumphed. I logged the final 6 miles on the treadmill and showed my legs who wears the pants around here (metaphorically speaking of course). That was Sunday. Monday and Tuesday my legs have been killing me. Maybe next time I'll be more inclined to listen to them... nah, I doubt it.

Excuse me, I'm trying to pee here

Uh oh, I think I have to pee. Let's see, I've got about 6 miles left on this run, so I'm not going to make it back home. Are there any port-a-potties on my route? Yes, yes I think there is one at that park a half mile from here. I can make it. Don't think about it just keep running until you get to the park.

Finally, here's the park and right over there is... Wait... Where did the port-a-pot go? I swear that there was one here. Crap! Just keep running I guess. Perhaps I can find a tree or a bush or something. Ooh, there are some good bushes and trees by the stream in a mile and a half. Stream. Running water. Uh oh. I need to find somewhere to take a leak and I mean STAT people! This is not a drill!

Over there! Those bushes aren't really big enough but if I squat down like I'm stretching I think I could make it work. I'm going for it. Wait! There are kids over there playing soccer. Maybe they won't notice? Nope. Too risky, not to mention too hard explain what I was doing with my pants around my ankles in the bushes near the kiddies playing soccer. Good catch. Definitely not worth the risk. Keep going.

Awww man! That would be a great place to relieve myself if those cyclists weren't stopped there. Why are they stopped? Get moving! I could totally pee behind that tree if they weren't there and it's going to be a while before I find another secluded place to go.

OK, I'm in trouble. No one in the history of the world has ever needed to take a piss more than I do right now. I'm going to explode. Seriously, I think this could be dangerous to my health. Just go man, just let it go. No, you can make it.

At last, here come's a big tree up ahead. I can... no! An old couple running towards me from the other direction. It's OK. I'll just take it slowly and after they pass me I'll run down into the ditch and hydrate the tree. Smile and wave. Hello. OK... now... the coast is clear. There you go, just a quick glance to make sure the old couple isn't stopping. Oh no! They're turning around! Abort! Abort! This is their freaking turnaround point?!? I can't catch a break! Quick run back up to the path. And now they're following me, probably wondering what I was doing running down to the ditch. Quick, do it again so they think it's part of your training regimen. There we go. OK, one more time down to the ditch and back up so it just looks like some kind of weird intervals or mini hill sprints or something.

Alright, I think I've lost the old couple. I'm pretty fast so they must be a ways back by now and there's a couple of trees around this bend that will provide adequate shelter for my bathroom break. Here we go. Aaaaaaannnddd go. Commence evacuation. Seriously. Let's go already, you've had to pee for 5 miles and now you're going to get stage fright? PEE ALREADY!

AHHHHHHHHHH. Relief. Well that's just great, how did I manage to splash it on my shoes? And my ankle? Gross! Oh no! I hear the old couple coming. Hurry up. HURRY UP! There we go. Quickly now, back on the trail before they see me. Down into the ditch and back up. Down into the ditch and back up. Nothing to see here folks, just doing my mini hill sprints.

Huh, what do you know. I guess the old saying is true; "You can shake it, you can squeeze it, you can bang it on a wall, but not until it's in your pants does the last drop fall!"