With a jolt I lurch out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. The night is quiet and still but something is not right within me.
I check in with D who is yet in the midst of sleep’s blissful stupor. He’s fine. Thankfully. It’s funny how when you love someone your first thought is always for their well-being.
D’s fine. I’m not. D ran yesterday. But I must still stare down a 30 kilometre run. After I make more supplications to the porcelain god — 3 more supplications to be exact.
As I step outside I am met by air that is cool and invigorating and I’m hopeful for its restorative powers. My stride is wobbly and anemic and I promise myself to take it easy. In reality I have no other choice.
Two kilometres in and all I want more than anything is to go home and lie down. At this time I begin to wonder, is it an athlete’s resolve or foolhardiness that pushes the runner onward?
My stomach feels uncomfortably distended and I begin to break out into a sweat that I recognize has nothing to do with my run. Whipping off my toque I forge ahead.
By the 10 km mark my pace has strengthened though it is still far from strong. I begin to settle in. More importantly, I start to believe that I can finish the 20 kilometres that still lie ahead.
15 kilometres in and with a tailwind solidifying my efforts a sudden cramping engulfs my lower right abdomen. Too high up to be my appendix. Disconcerting nonetheless. I re-shift my focus. 20 kilometres may be all I have within me today.
Two more kilometres and the pain subsides. The 20 kilometre mark is now in sight. I opt to make it a half marathon. Then 22 kilometres.
Suddenly and mystifyingly, my mind snaps. Just as my body has begun to rally once again.
Although physically I am weakened, ultimately it is my mental focus that succumbs. With just 23 kilometres completed, I must accept the fact that it is time for me to head home.
Opening the front door of the house, a welcoming warmth soothes me. I catch a wafting of fresh brewed coffee just as D asks how I am.
Relieved that I am actually improved from when he last saw me, D flashes an impish grin and imparts a statistic he’s heard.
“You know 1 out of every 100 runners poops their pants.”
I return his smile with a toothy one of my own.
It’s good to be home.
It’s also good to know that I am not yet another statistic.
Thanks D.
My Life As an Ultra Marathon Runner 
There are people that would call an ambulance if they were feeling like you did. Yet you go and run more than a half marathon. What a tough mofo you are Rod! Great Job!
Thanks Shawn! I gotta say it wiped me out for the rest of the day and I was in bed just after 7. Got back out there this morning though even with the snow 😃
How was the storm in your area?
From what I hear ‘sauga got it pretty bad compared to Toronto. Driving was not fun today 😦
Oh man this made me laugh!
I often pick my route based on bathroom availability 🙂
Well done on your run!
Thanks Kristi! I hope to never struggle like that again!