I've mentioned I trained for a marathon for about 6 months. I did it with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training program (See here for details – great program) so every Saturday – rain-snow-or shine – me and a large group of others would run at 8am for anywhere from 4 to 20 miles.
And this was during the infamous “Snowpocalypse” of DC where we got more snow than we’ve ever had. I remember one run where my friend’s water bottle actually froze during the run, and one where I wasn’t sure my Mustang would make it back home on the roads because people were spinning out left and right.
And during our 18 miler, it rained the entire run and I learned the hard way that the jacket I was wearing had not gotten a thorough rinsing on its last spin through the wash- it foamed up. During the run. I had little bubbles all over my arms by the time I got back to my car...not crazy looking at all!
But I miraculously made it all the way through the season to our longest training run– the 20 miler – with really no major mishaps.
Then I had a freakishly unusual one. Surprised? Yeah, I wasn’t either...
I was running with Gina, one of the girls I typically did long runs with, and we got to around mile 11 or 13 and she wanted to stop at a mini mart we were passing. And I hardly ever stopped on those runs. I’m slow enough as it is, I don’t need to waste more time using the restroom or anything so I try not to stop. But since she was stopping, I stopped. And since we were there, I go ahead and use the restroom.
And that’s probably TMI but this story is too good not to share.
So the yoga pants I was wearing were many years old and well-worn. And as I’m pulling them up -
they rip.
Not just a little bit, but like a good 6-8 inch tear down the seam.
AND NOT JUST ANY SEAM.
It tears the seam running along the INSIDE OF MY THIGH, starting a bit above my knee and going all the way up to...let’s just say another inch or so and everyone would ‘see London and see France...’
I don’t even know what to do. We are miles from our car and I don’t have money or anything. So I walk out, point out the incident in disbelief to Gina – as if she couldn’t already see it – and I ask the cashier if he has anything to help me. Safety pins? (which wouldn’t have worked any way but I would’ve stapled the material to my leg at that point to get back to my car) Tape? He has nothing behind the register and the line of people in front of his counter starts building so he ignores us. So Gina and I look for tape down the aisles.
But we have no money.
So here’s where I sort of steal something. I’m not proud, but what could I do? It was either murder Gina and take her pants, or steal tape. Those were obviously the only two choices I had. So as the attendant is busy with his customers, I find a roll of masking tape and I sort of duck behind an aisle, peel off enough to wrap around my leg, tourniquet-style, and toss the tape back on the shelf and scurry out of the mini mart.
It looked similar to this:
Except the gaping hole in my clothing is not so much THERE, as it is HERE:
So now, my MacGyver’ed up pant leg is still sort of gaping, and I have tape wrapped around my upper thigh, but whatever. It’s working. Sort of. Except every couple minutes, the tape shifts and the hole starts gaping more. So I have to keep readjusting and it’s steadily rubbing a large area raw – on the inside of my thigh.
And around mile 18, we have the choice to just run straight to our cars or keep going another 2 miles, finishing the 20 miles we are supposed to do. And Gina decides to turn.
But I’m like – No. Way. I’ve just ran the last 5-7 miles looking like Rambo, stopping every couple minutes to yank a hole closed on my pants, and chafing the inside of my leg – I AM FINISHING THIS.
So I run the last little bit, facing the weird looks of other runners (alone!) and I finally round the bend and come back to where my car is. And the stragglers that are left of my team start cheering for me, and then they see my leg and I have to explain myself. (And one teammate actually said “oh, I saw the tape but just figured it was some sort of circulation thing or something.” Wow. That's how crazy runners are.)
When I get home, my leg is chafed so badly I’m unable to run for the next week, making THAT my worst “injury” all season. Go figure.