Runners...aren't we the weirdest

Runners... aren't we the weirdest? Running is a strange world. If you’ve ever been a runner, you know it’s full of odd habits, early mornings, and a strange kind of joy that outsiders just don’t get. I’ve always been one of those "weird" runners. Back in high school, I ran cross country and track, which already made me a bit of an oddball. People called me a "run-for-fun whacko" or "nerdy," and while I wasn’t running anywhere near the fictional distances of Forrest Gump, I was still the "Forrest Gump" of my school in spirit. But my real journey into long-distance running didn’t start until I took a wild leap from the familiar 5K races straight into the world of half marathons a few years after high school. This story tries to depict my initiation into the long-distance running world.

My very first race over 5K was a half marathon. I didn't even go from 5K to 10K; I jumped straight to the half marathon because I knew I eventually wanted to do marathons. It was a wild experience. I hadn't really done a ton of training nor had I done a lot of reading about what to expect. But I was up for it and committed to go through whatever suffering was going to come my way.

It started off wild. I had to wake up at 2:30 in the morning to get to the start of the race, which was about an hour away from my house. So I got up early and picked up a few friends who were going to be doing it as well. When we got to the "loading area," we all got herded onto a bunch of buses to get up to the starting line of the race, which was about 13 miles away from where we were near the finish line. This was so crazy to me because it was 4:30 a.m. and there were so many people looking to do the same crazy thing: run 13.1 miles across trails, roads, hills, creeks, and more roads. What was even wilder is that as early as it was for us running the half marathon, there was a full marathon going on, and those folks had already been hauled up the canyon to start even earlier, so they were the "real crazies." Those "crazies" played into the main story. As we rode up the bus, I sat next to a gentleman that, just by appearance, didn't fit the "build" of a runner. I wouldn't have expected him to run a half marathon nor "want" to run a half marathon. I quickly learned that this man had run over 20 half marathons and nearly the same number of full marathons, which made me think that not all runners are created equal, nor do they have to fit the "prototype build." Because let me tell you, as I looked around that bus, not many people fit what I thought was the "runner build," but yet there were some serious serial runners on there. The conversation with that gentleman was fun, light-hearted, and quite inspiring. As we essentially pulled to the side of the road—literally a huge commercial bus just pulling off a very slanted and narrow canyon road to allow for marathon runners to pass and for us to get ready to take off from our starting point—we filed off the bus wishing each other good luck. I went off the bus and warmed up a bit. I found myself needing to go to the bathroom and, unfortunately, there weren't any porta-Johns available. So I did the most prudent thing and grabbed some TP from the goodie bag that they provided us for the race (which included our race bib number and the "free" T-Shirt) and went trekking into the darkness of the morning to find a private spot to do my duty. Two things about that: one, I now realized why they gave us TP in our goodie bag (a smart decision on the race director's part). Second, I was not the only original thinker/runner to do what I was doing. As I got out into the darkness, I found many runners squatting, men and women alike, just air squatting and ridding themselves of the massive dinners we consumed the night before. Quite eye-opening, haha, but hey, I was doing it too. It kind of felt like Billy Madison when he "peed" his pants; everyone was doing it. So why not join in? Everyone was doing it, and I did, haha. Once I got that taken care of, I was walking back up to get some hand sanitizer and drop my stuff off on the bus, which was taking all of our warm-up clothes back to the finish line area. As I was getting closer to the bus, I looked up and I could see some of the marathoners coming through. It was inspiring to see them, as I knew I wanted to run one very soon and see what it looked like halfway through; it was cool. I was a bit envious that I wasn't doing the "full" marathon but knew I needed to start at least with the half and prepare for the full. However, what transpired shortly after, in normal circles, would have been the most publicly humiliating incident to happen to a human, but in the running circles, it was just another day, another race, and another massive dookie. As I was about to get on the bus, I saw people cheering on the leader for the women's marathon race. She looked composed, under control, confident, smooth, etc. All of the descriptive words you would use to talk about a leading runner in a race. Well, that took a quick turn. Just as she would cross the halfway mark (our—the half-marathoner's—starting line), she took a B-line to the jungle where many of us were dropping our loads. The only thing is, she didn't go too deep into the bushes; in fact, she was just off the road and very much visible. I mean VISIBLE! She then proceeds to rip her shorts off down to her ankles and does her thing... poop... that was her thing... that was what she did... she took a poop. I lived a pretty clean and sheltered life; I was 21 years old, never been to a strip joint, had a "peep" show and, well, that was my first one. And it was unflattering. Haha, several people around asked out loud and with great disbelief, "Is she really just taking a "dump" on the side of the road?" And as they examined closer, they indeed did find that she was actually crapping on the side of the road. Butt cheeks and other parts were all exposed. Hey, everyone else had been doing it; they just had been a bit more discrete about it, but she was in the middle of a race, leading the race, and nature called. I suppose it came out so clean and quick that there wasn't time nor supplies available, so she pulled those shorts back up without wiping and went on to win that dang race.

The best line from that day and that whole scene, which was maybe 15 seconds long, was from the guy I walked by right after that marathoner went on her way. Now keep in mind, this guy fit the bill of your typical "middle-of-the-packer": a singlet that was purchased 10 years prior and 20 LBS lighter, neon-colored compression sleeves, and short shorts with compression shorts underneath, which always begs the question: why buy those short shorts? Anyways, he was just kind of standing there watching, with an unwrapped Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie—yes, it was indeed an oatmeal pie, no mistaking that, especially with my experience of consuming them—and he takes a bite, then says to anyone around that would listen, "Well, that was something to behold, wasn't it?" He takes another bite of his oatmeal pie and finishes off the thought by saying, "Runners... aren't we the weirdest?" Haha, all the while eating an OATMEAL PIE before running his half marathon. Hahaha That was the moment that I was hooked and invested into running and racing. These people were indeed weird, haha, but they were my kind of weird. Crapping on the side of the road, waking up at ungodly hours of the morning to what? Run? Taping things that shouldn't be taped, rubbing lotions and potions all over their bodies, and fueling themselves with some of the most unorthodox foods—Little Debbies, haha. Runners... aren't we the weirdest? Love to hear more about your first experiences venturing into the running world, of any distance. Your stories about your first race, dealing with gastrointestinal issues, and more! Ever runner has a story!