Running: Race Report - Around the Bay, Around the Toilet Bowl

Wednesday, March 28, 2007 - 04:41 AM

Author and web-site inventor David Brooks on a day when he apparently did not have to stop "on the run"...

Obligatory Race Report

There was once a time, not too long ago, when I would ask runners for their ORR (Obligatory Race Report) after running a marathon or major race. I never failed to deliver my ORR after my marathons and some shorter races until a few years ago when it seemed redundant. Not that running a marathon was any less of a personal journey, but rather it seemed to me a less compelling read for others.

Now, I feel that a race must be a significant achievement or otherwise newsworthy story before I try to add yet another email to the spam cluttered inbox of my running friends. Hopefully this one gets by your spam filter. It isn’t a significant race report but I hope it is at least slightly humorous. If you are busy, skim it, but at least read the punch line. :-)

I promise, it will not be another 'I came, I conquered', account of self-actualization.
Warning: do not read this if you have an aversion to bathroom humour. I’ll try to be as subtle as possible.

There is a time. Turn. Turn. Turn. There is a season...

As you may know, every race, even 5Ks, I prepare a Bible verse that I meditate on during the race. I use it especially during the ‘Perseverance’ phase of my 5 phase race strategy (**Celebrate, Pace, Persevere, Race, Guts**).

Today, at the 2007 edition of The Around the Bay 30K Race, my selection was one of my favorites, Ecclesiastes 1. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”

Well, it seems that today was a ‘season’ for, how should I say this… going to the bathroom – although there was no ‘bathroom’ involved. Have you ever had one of the race nightmares where you just can’t seem to get to the start line, or you can’t seem to get your legs moving on the course? This morning I had a nightmare where I just couldn’t find a bathroom when I needed one.


Pre-race Preparation

My race preparation was better than usual. The entire week leading up to the race went perfectly. I had my fastest 30 minute threshold run on the treadmill the previous weekend. My legs had no aches or pains at all and I felt energetic. But I knew I had my ischemic colitis to deal with, as diagnosed by an internist. Basically, for the past few years, every marathon, half marathon and some 10Ks and long runs have been interrupted by at least one emergency washroom break.

I just factor it into my race plan. I have experimented extensively with my pre-race diet to minimize the impact but it isn’t related to diet but rather to blood flow.


8 Porta-Potties?!!!

Of course, an important part of my pre-race routine is using the facilities as often and as close to the race start as possible. This is where the trouble started. I seem to remember at previous Around the Bay races, there being a long row of dozens of Porta-potties. This year just 8 at the start area for over 4500 runners. So, basically with 30 minutes to go, I lined up, went, lined up again, went and a third time, lined up and went. Well, that should take care of it!


An Amazing Celebration Start

I felt great. The day was amazing! And the start area had as much excitement as ever. Immediately after the start, I met up with Mat Reid, a triathlete from Hamilton, that I have run alongside for every Around the Bay race in recent years. From past experience, we both knew the noncompetitive partnership was good for our finishing time. In previous races, he knew I would push the pace, trying to build up some margin to allow my expected 90 second ‘rest stop’. We got off to a 3:42 pace. Perfect for my 1:52 goal, considering the difficult last third of the course.


That Loving Feeling

Then, just after 3K, I got ‘that feeling’. The first ‘rest’ was going to come early. “Hmmm. I wonder if there is going to be a porta-potty before the 10K water station.” Of course, not. Well, I wasn't hidden from view when I 'went' in what looked like a bit of a park, but I was at least hidden from view from anyone who wasn’t running the race. “See ya guys. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” “There goes the Joggler. I can at least catch up to him.” “That felt better. I did this last year at 9K in the Toronto Marathon and that was all. So maybe that will be it for the day.”


8K

8K: “Here comes that feeling again. Still no porta-potty. I’m getting less self-conscious. But out of respect to non-runners, I will at least try to hide myself a bit.” “Okay. Just a minute lost. I’m getting better. Now that should be it. I don’t know my pace. I’m not even thinking about running but I gotta get back in the game. But my stomach is killing me.” Let’s go catch the Joggler again. This is getting discouraging.”
It was no longer felt like a race, but a bad dream of running through the streets of Hamilton looking for a washroom. “This must be a nightmare. Always looking for a bathroom but can find one until it’s too late. Something tells me I’m not going to wake up to run a 1:52.”

“Okay. I’ll take that Imodium I just happen to have in this ziplock bag taped to my shorts… ooops… shoot dropped it… oh well, it never helped in the past anyways.”
Ya right! But it didn’t hurt either. “Gotta catch up to that Joggler AGAIN! He makes it look so easy. I’d like to see him run, juggle AND go to the bathroom!” “1:52 is out of the question, but I can still break 1:55.” “15K in 57 minutes. No bad. But I can only think about ONE THING. It has RUN in it and it isn’t RUNNING!”


17K

“Here it comes again. Almost ready to turn down Lakeshore and several miles of million dollar homes. I don’t want to go on someone’s front lawn. Okay. THIS IS THE LAST TIME.” “Gotta re-group. Re-strategize. Re-tie-up-my-shorts. Just 60 seconds this time.” "A total of about 3 minutes wasted. I’m not going to catch the Joggler again but I can still finish this.” “20K. 1:16. How about a 39 minute 10K to finish off with? That’s not too much to ask. Is it?”


22K

“22K. NOT AGAIN! Oh Forget it! This is ridiculous.”

“An orange slice? Sure. What the heck. Can’t make things any worse.”

“Ah walking. Now that feels much better.”

Then the police marshalling the course asks, “You all right? Do you need a ride in?”
“Sure, I could walk in but I’m basically done running for the day,” I reply without even stopping to think. “A sweep van should be around shortly,” she says. “Perfect.”


DO NOT STOP!

As I watch running friend after running friend go by, I slowly realize that when the temperature is just above freezing, it feels great to run but it’s not healthy to stand around for 45 minutes in a wet technical shirt and shorts. But I also know that I shouldn't expect a bus to come by every 5 minutes. When I sign up for a race I don’t expect to get a ride in just because I need to go to the bathroom.

Finally, after being assured that the van is 'almost here' I take someone up on their offer to drive me in after watching me turn blue while waiting for his wife to run by.
I hope I didn’t get his front seat too sweaty. I think he was concerned that my uncontrollable shivering and blue lips were going to turn into a liability.
It's hard to be sociable when you FEEL LIKE YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!
At this point, the sorest muscles I have are my jaw muscles from shivering so much.

I'm not kidding.

But if I manage to get his email address, "Thanks for the ride Dave. Congratulate your wife on a great sub 2:55 race to reach her goal!"

It is these ‘unique experiences’ that make distance running fun in a sadistic kind of way.

"There is a time for everything. A time to run. And a time to have the runs."

The New Runner's Version

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