Ladybits: running on my period

This post is about periods. I’m telling you that upfront so you can choose to stop it reading if you want. Because some people don’t want to hear, or read or even think about what goes on below the waist, especially not below the waist of women. These people usually have a penis.

I tweeted this week that my uterus is trying to sabotage my Ironman training. Two training sessions have been cut short because of pain so intense that it has almost made me vomit. I believe my uterus is voicing its objections to the patriarchal naming of the triathlon I’m training for.

I’m no wuss. I did a half-ironman. I’ve run seven marathons. I ran one marathon through 30mph winds and a flood. So when I say things smart a fair bit, you can trust me on that.

I got a reply to my tweet. “Thanks for that. Great timing too, lunch.” Periods make some people come over all Victorian. If you’re one of them you can stop reading here. And maybe go sit in a shed at the end of the garden until it’s all over.

In Edinburgh in 2012, I put on my race kit, ate my porridge and was about to head out my hotel room when I made one last trip to the loo. There it was, my period. It had made a special guest appearance the morning of my sub-4 marathon attempt. As you know I still got my sub-4 time even though I was riding the crimson wave that day.

You’ll find a lot of things marked in my diary – races, training plans, run dates – but nowhere is there an asterisk, a P in a circle or whatever other ‘secret code’ grown adults still use to mark the migration of their womb lining.

“I’ve got an app on my phone. It tells me when it’s due and if it should have come already” said my friend the other evening. “It’s really good.”

“It’s OK, I’d rather keep the 79p for a bar of chocolate and have it be a surprise.”

I refuse to keep track of it. Partly this is because I want to ignore its presence in my life as much as possible; I don’t want future plans written in my diary to be followed by ‘Oh, I’ll have my period that weekend’. But mainly I can’t be bothered with the admin and I like surprises.

When I found myself laying in the fetal position on the floor of my flat when I should have been packing for The Gauntlet half-iron triathlon the next day, this was quite unexpected. The next day I spent eight hours wondering how you change a tampon when you’re wearing a tri onesie – which was preferable to having spent the preceding couple of months worrying about the same thing.

One week out of every four is going to be inconvenienced by menstruation. If you race, the chances are you’re going to be on the blob for one sooner or later. But don’t worry about it, sometimes this will have surprising advantages to it. One month after The Gauntlet I went to Frankfurt to run the marathon. I’m not only stubborn in my resistance to documenting my periods (outside of this blog post) I’m also forgetful. This resulted in a trip to a supermarket for some ‘souvenir German tampons*’.

Periods are ‘a right bloody palaver’*. They inconvenience training and racing. And yet they’re largely ignored by running magazines, websites and, certainly, race commentary. One day we might hear Steve Cram and Paula Radcliffe commentating on a major marathon and discussing which runners have got the painters in as though it’s a natural bodily function no more taboo than a strained hamstring or a spot of ITBS. Until then, I’ll keep trying to spoil people’s lunch.

 

*Credit for both rag gags to @cakeofgoodhope.