In a moment of desperation for a child-free weekend, fueled by a mid-life crisis creeping toward 40, I impulsively registered for an out-of-town marathon. After injuring my leg, my ambitious plans were scaled down to a half marathon, which I didn’t mind too much—it was an amusing badge of honor to claim I had a “sports-related injury,” as if I were some seasoned athlete.
With my parents babysitting the kids, my partner Alex and I embarked on what I envisioned as a weekend of indulgence, complete with a 21-kilometer jog. Normally, I’d prefer childbirth over a five-hour car ride through winding roads, but sans children, it turned into pure bliss. We enjoyed uninterrupted conversations, no whines, no vomit, and certainly no Wiggles music blaring in the background. Well, I did insist on stopping for a Snickers bar, so I could savor chocolate in the car without the embarrassment of hiding my face in my bag.
After collecting my race packet and enjoying a dinner without rushing home for bedtime, we treated ourselves to a full night’s sleep. I decided that weekend races were officially my new favorite thing.
However, the excitement took a turn when, while waiting for my pre-race bathroom break, my body chose that moment to surprise me with an unexpected period. Of all times! I had my race essentials—band-aids, gel shots, iPod—but no tampons in sight.
Frustrated, I shared my dilemma with Alex, and we made our way to the first-aid station. As we waited for the man in front of us to receive help for his chafing, I quietly asked the first-aid attendant, “Do you have any tampons?” The look of confusion on her face was priceless as she turned to her colleague and whispered, “Do we have any… tampons?” It was clear they were embarrassed, and I felt the urge to explain, “Look, it’s day 17 of my cycle, and I’m just as shocked as you are!”
Feeling flustered and slightly panicked, I scanned the bags of women nearby, hoping to spot a familiar box of tampons that boasted cheerful designs, marketing menstruation as fun yet somehow still gross. Alex gallantly offered to ask nearby women for “feminine products,” and while I appreciated his willingness, I was grateful he didn’t follow through.
The absurdity of the situation struck me: Why wasn’t I just shouting, “Hey! Can anyone spare a tampon?” It’s not as if fellow runners would cry out, “Unclean! She’s cursed! Banish her for five to seven days!” Living in a developed country where women have been voting for over a century, I found myself inexplicably embarrassed. Somehow, discussing a guy’s chafing seemed easier than bringing up my period.
As the race began, I decided to take my chances with my black running pants. The announcer boasted that “over 60% of participants this year are women!” This only fueled my frustration about #TamponGate. I ranted to Alex that if men had periods, there would be tampons everywhere and they’d be free! But, of course, I kept my tirade quiet—thanks to that good ol’ female shame. (Side note: I suspect the high number of women runners was because the course ended at a vineyard. A run that concludes with guilt-free wine is definitely worth doing).
During the first leg of the run, I scolded myself for being such a whiny brat and reminded myself, “You call yourself a feminist!” “Yes, I am,” I replied, “but I’m not looking to prove a point with my lady parts, like that famous marathon runner who made a statement with her period!” I admire their messages, but I’ve never been fond of my own cycle. Each one exacerbated my endometriosis as a teenager, and every arrival in my early 30s was a reminder that I wasn’t pregnant once again. The only time I appreciated my period was when it gave me an excuse to skip swimming lessons or when I accidentally missed a minipill during a sleepless phase with my second child.
All I wanted was to complete my half marathon, enjoy a bottle of wine afterward, and not cross the finish line looking like an extra from a horror movie due to my embarrassment over asking strangers for a tampon. Was that too much to ask?
Fortunately, my body seemed to sense my annoyance over #BonusPeriod and eased up on the situation, allowing me to enjoy the breathtaking scenery and witness one of my best friends finish her full marathon. Afterward, we celebrated with that well-earned bottle of wine I had been imagining since the start of the race.
Kudos to Alex, who, while I jogged through vineyards and olive groves with thousands of runners, took the initiative to shop for all the essentials an unprepared woman might need. I’m beyond grateful he’s my partner in raising our two daughters to be confident women who will ask for a tampon without any shame.
In summary, while the marathon experience was filled with a mix of excitement and embarrassment, it ultimately showcased the importance of support and open communication about women’s health. If you want to learn more about the journey of home insemination, you can check out this informative post. And for those looking to enhance their experience, visit this authority on fertility supplements. For pregnancy tracking, I recommend this excellent resource.