Success and Sexy Secretions

I began by eating a bagel. Toasted. Butter. Strawberry jam. Perfection.

Hot chai.

Fair time!

I arrived to hear Swing Set play in the middle of the afternoon. Barely anyone was dancing, but the music was live, and I couldn't help myself. As I swayed, jumped, and kicked I was approached numerous times.

You're a celebrity!

Nice article!

Wow, and I thought you were just a NORMAL person!

I guess you never know who you are talking to, huh!

Huh.

At least the age old, "Have you ever killed someone?" wasn't thrown at me.

I ate freshly picked cherries, danced my last song, swaying to the base like a willow in a hurricane (no, really) before jogging rapidly to my car to speed off to work.

Not to work. To pay while I play.

After I got off the river, I picked my friend up at the airport and promptly returned to the fair, dressed in a smile so large my cheeks ached.

Debauchery ensued. Much dancing, some drinking, much socializing. Around 1:00, I thought I should go to sleep. I was going to race the next morning. Then I thought about the live music at the bar downtown. I quickly made the right decision.

Music it is.

More dancing, a little more alcohol, a lot more socializing.

The night (morning) ended at 4:30.

The half marathon started at 7:30, and I wasn't registered yet.

I had two people in my bed, two upstairs, and I slept on the couch. Couchsurfing's great.

I woke up at 6:30, and nobody else wanted to come out in the dreary, grey Saturday light to watch me start and finish. Surprising.

Race time.

A cool misty morning, a slight breeze, and NINE HARD CORE runners. None of us had a watch. None had a GPS. None had competitive spirit. It was cool, raining, grey, and somehow absolutely perfect.

The town was still sleeping as we trotted from the starting line in response to a commanding, "On your mark, get set, GO!" I felt OK for the first 2 miles. They were on pavement, and I convinced myself the alcohol and burrito from the evening prior would sit well in my stomach.

Sneakers slapping the pavement, small sprays of muddy precipitation were sent each and every way. I felt water on my toes.

Blisters?

As I hit the trail, my feet got comfortable pounding on the soft leaves and slippery mud. I simultaneously forgot the blisters and remembered the alcohol and massive burrito.

Uh oh.

I looked around anxiously. I stepped out of the way for a few runners to pass. I swallowed. Chills ran up my spine, my neck tingled, my hands felt numb. It was coming.

I gave in after powering up the mountain just a little bit more. I felt better thinking I was contributing to the environment. I'm convinced I fed a bear a yummy beef and bean burrito that morning. Although, I may have encouraged alcoholism in that same bear. I prefer to think only the former. Negativity's not my style.

I like description when I write, but I'll spare you the details of color, consistency, and smell.

Once wasn't enough. I made another mile marker/bear donation about a mile later.

Then I lost the trail.

Laugh it up. I've never been great with directions, so why wouldn't I have my head down, duck under a fallen tree, jump over another, climb part of a mountain, and then suddenly realize I'm in waist high brush with no trail in sight?

I queasily backtracked, never once regretting the fun I had the night prior, and eased (gracefully I might add, I just about face planted on a root) back onto the trail.

By the time I hit mile 8, life was good again. The last 5 miles were spent cruising. I skipped over rocks, ducked under branches, gained new scrapes and scratches, chafing my inner thighs on my running shorts while I continued to pick up speed, but I still didn't see anyone. I'm sure I didn't finish last, but I'm not sure I was even in the first half of finishers! Percentile-wise, it may have been the worst race I've ever run in my life!

It was THAT AWESOME!

The day was spent dancing, eating, and laughing at that morning's race.

More of the same:

Hey, celebrity!

You're famous!

I've lived here 7 years and haven't gotten my picture in the paper! You've been here FOUR months and got a front page article!!!

No. I've only been here for THREE months.

Thank you for....you know.

I do know.

I'm not sure if I've been able to adequately express the positivity gained from knowing people are supportive. I try with words, but it's hard to capture the true gratitude in recognizing true gratitude in others.

I tried that day to get that point across. I may have succeeded, but one thing's for sure.

I danced.

Before I knew it, it was 6:15. I told myself I'd be on the road to Whitehorse by 5:00.

Typical Rita.

8:30 - Finally, on the road. Kerouac would be proud.
2:30 - Arrive in Whitehorse
3:30 - Fall asleep
6:30 - Alarm rings. Time to get ready for the race!
7:00 - Finally coherent enough to eat breakfast
7:30 - On the road to the starting line (no directions)
8:00 - Stop at a gas station to get directions to starting line
8:01 - Find I accidentally went the right way
8:15 - Arrive at race start to pick up my goodie bag with PLENTY of time until the start.
8:26 - Returned to the starting line with my number pinned, bowels emptied, no watch, and no GPS
8:30 - The gun fires, and we're off.

I forgot about the gun. Oops.

I had no idea what I was facing course-wise. I did know that I had ABSOLUTELY NO alcohol in my system at the start of this race, although I worried a bit about the coffee I downed in order to make the drive to the starting line. I tucked in behind a group of slower guys. I was convinced I was in the WAY back of the pack. When they asked me if I'd like to pass them on the single track, I politely refused.

No passing anyone not walking in the first 10 miles.

That was my rule.

There was an impatient girl behind me. I asked her if she'd like to pass. She scoffed at my pace and said she would. She sped down the trail. I smiled and told her kindly I'd see her in a few miles.

It didn't take that long. A mile and a half later I passed her. (She WAS walking.) I didn't see her for the rest of the race.

Around mile 13 (kilometer 21), I started to get a little bolder. I felt pretty good, and knew I could pick up the pace. That's where things can get dangerous in a marathon. As I jogged up to the rest station at the midway point, I told the volunteers I was out for a Sunday jog, and would prefer they didn't tell me how I was doing.

They complied.

Around mile 15, I realized I had chafed my thighs again. Not super important, but uncomfortable.

A few more miles...

Then it happened.

I've read about it happening. I've laughed about it happening to other people. I've seen horrifyingly embarrassing video clips of it happening, but I'd never experienced it myself.

My bladder let go.

Don't judge me.

It wasn't an all out pee a quart at a time, but it was a decent flow. Enough that it ran down my legs to about my knee. Down my chafed legs.

The stinging brought me to an abrupt stop.

I stifled a scream of disbelief and utter pain. I started to jog again after a few seconds of contemplation.

OH HOW IT BURNS!!!!!!

I sucked some water out of my camel back, put it on my hands, and wiped down my legs a little. It seemed to help, if only slightly.

I kept running.

I stopped thinking about the little "accident" after a bit.

Then, at a crossroads....

It happened AGAIN!

This time with more flow, and merciless burning on the inner thighs.

Hmmm...I just pissed myself in a marathon. THAT JUST HAPPENED! TWICE!

I thought it would be a good idea to "pull over." Luckily I had toilet paper in my camel back, because all at once, my gut gave me a telltale rumble, and my "situation" became an emergency quite quickly.

I handled it as fast as I could, then got back to the trail. I only had another 5K or so left in the race.

This time I didn't forget about it as quickly as I had the first time because I could smell it. I knew if I could smell it, so could whoever else was around. I was a bit embarrassed. I was preparing my response. It went something like this:

"So, have an accident?"

"Yeah, I pissed myself twice...What? Wanna fight about it?"

That's it. That's all I could come up with. :)

Another random thought that kept running through my mind as I finished the race (other than, damn, another hill!? and Damn, measuring the race in Kilometers makes it seem longer) was the episode of Family Guy where Peter gets mauled by the raccoon several times and then his outhouse is tipped with him in it.

He screams, "It's EVERYWHERE! It's in my raccoon wounds!!!"

I thought about screaming it, but the low chances of random trail runners in Whitehorse getting the reference dissuaded me.

I rounded the last turn, and the finish line came into sight. I started to pick up the pace, trailing my scent of triumph behind. If anything, I thought it might prevent other runners from closing the gap. I finished, hard, and in that moment, I had a revelation.

Most of the run was next to a river.

I hobbled to the water, and proceeded to sit down in the water. I casually wrung the material in my shorts, all the while icing my legs.

HA! They'll never know!

And they didn't. At least nobody made a visible yucky smell face in front of me, and that makes me smile.

Nobody would have known my humiliation because I handled it so quickly, so I thought it was definitely necessary to share this on the world wide web. I know it will bite me in the butt when I go to publish my book.

When it's all said and done, this weekend was a great success. I placed 2nd in the open female division at the marathon. I got a trophy, and a finisher's medal (that my couchsurfer proceeded to break the next morning), but most importantly, I earned raw inner thighs, and memories that will make me chuckle for the rest of my life.

I hate to tell you, but If you haven't run to the point of sexy secretions, you have definitely been cheating yourself out of an epic experience.