In a quest for a legitimate excuse to enjoy a childfree weekend, coupled with a mild mid-life crisis, I impulsively registered for an out-of-town marathon. Although I had dreams of tackling the full 42 kilometers, a leg injury prompted me to scale back to a half marathon. I didn’t mind, though; I relished the thought of having a “sports-related injury” as if I were a regular athlete.
With my parents babysitting the kids, my partner and I set off, envisioning a weekend filled with good food, drink, and a leisurely jog. Normally, I’d rather endure childbirth than a five-hour car ride through winding roads, but this time was pure bliss. We shared uninterrupted conversations, free from complaints, spills, and the incessant loop of kids’ music. I did, however, insist on a stop for a Snickers bar, allowing me to indulge in chocolate without the need to hide it in my bag.
After picking up my race packet and enjoying dinner without the bedtime routine, we savored a full night’s sleep. I was convinced that out-of-town races were the way to go. However, as I made my rounds to the portable restrooms for my customary pre-race ritual, I discovered that my body had decided to surprise me with an unexpected period. Band-aids, energy gels, and my music gear were all in my bag, but not a single tampon in sight.
In a panic, I explained my situation to my husband, and we trudged over to the first-aid station. As I waited, the person ahead of me was offered various remedies for his chafing issues. “Do you have any tampons?” I quietly asked the staff. The confusion on their faces was palpable as they exchanged whispers: “Do we have… tampons?” “No, I don’t think we have… that kind of thing.” They were well-meaning but bewildered, and I felt compelled to clarify, “Look, it’s day 17 of my cycle, so trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Feeling embarrassed, I scanned the crowd for any sign of a woman carrying one of those cute, decorated boxes of tampons. My husband even offered to ask nearby women if they had any “feminine products,” and I love him for that, even though I was mortified at the thought.
The absurdity of the situation hit me: Why wasn’t I just calling out, “Hey! Could someone please lend me a tampon?” It’s not like the fellow runners would scream, “Unclean! She’s cursed!” I live in a developed country, a place where women first earned the right to vote, and yet here I was, feeling shame about something so natural.
As the starting gun fired, I decided to take a chance and hoped my black running pants would suffice. The announcer cheerfully proclaimed, “Over 60% of participants this year are women!” This only fueled my quiet rage about the tampon debacle. If men had periods, I mused, there would be tampons everywhere, and they would probably be free.
While running, I chastised myself for being so upset. “You call yourself a feminist!” I scolded myself. “Yes, I am,” I replied, “but I don’t want to make a statement with my body like some of those bold women out there!” I’ve never been a fan of periods, especially considering how they exacerbated my endometriosis in my youth. The only time I ever appreciated my period was when it conveniently showed up to excuse me from swimming during school.
All I wanted was to finish the half marathon, enjoy a glass of wine, and not worry about crossing the finish line looking like I’d stepped out of a horror movie. Was that too much to ask? Miraculously, my body seemed to calm down, allowing me to enjoy the breathtaking scenery. I even cheered on one of my best friends as she completed her full marathon. Afterward, we celebrated with that well-deserved bottle of wine I had visualized since ten minutes into the race.
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my husband, who, while I was enjoying the run, went shopping to prepare for any possible needs I might have. I’m thrilled he’s my partner in raising our daughters to be unashamed and confident women who can ask for what they need.
In summary, the experience of running while dealing with an unexpected period was full of humor, embarrassment, and self-reflection, reminding me of the often unspoken hurdles women face. For those navigating similar situations, consider checking out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, or visit Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit for more insights on the journey to motherhood. And if you’re interested in further reading, don’t miss out on this blog post about intracervical insemination.