Runaway poise

The biggest challenge I have with running is not my breathing. It is not my sore muscles or boredom or blisters — even though I suffer from all of the above.

My biggest problem is my bladder.

Either I have a tiny one, which I prefer to say since it sounds so ladylike and delicate, OR my pelvic floor muscles retired after my babies were born … I gained 85 pounds with the twins, and I was only 105 to start! See this pic? I was almost 6 months pregnant here. By the end, I couldn’t roll over on my own so I had to be turned at night every two hours. Just like your Sunday roast.

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THIS IS AN EMBARRASSING PROBLEM ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU RUN WITH OTHERS.

But I figured out a few strategies which would help me cope:

  1. Only wear black. What is it they say about black? Once you go black, you’ll never go back?! hmmmmm.
  2. Always wear Poise.

So. Poise.

This is a pad for grabbing all the leaks. pee leaks. not period leaks. It absorbs the pee as you cough, sneeze, jump, or in my case, run. Merriam-Webster describes poise as graceful and elegant bearing in a person. So I personally think it is ignorant for a pee pad company to call their product Poise!!!  THERE IS NOTHING GRACEFUL AND ELEGANT ABOUT PEEING YOUR PANTS IN PUBLIC.

Nor is it graceful and elegant to go through the check-out at Walmart with a pack of Poise pads. It brings me back to my 10 year-old first period days and buying pads with my mom. Elegant. NOT. Back in the day, my Mom would make us girls walk around with books on our heads so that we would grow up to be poised young ladies. Now, I just strap on a pad.

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This very inelegant and wet business almost ended my running career. But, UP UNTIL YESTERDAY, I had learned to just suck it up and keep running.

Yesterday.

It started off to be a good day. Mr P broke his wrist in a couple places last weekend and may need surgery. His right wrist, I might add, SO I’M BASICALLY HIS SLAVE. I DON’T MIND. NOT AT ALL. I MEAN, POOR MR P. Anyhow, I had finished DOING EVERYTHING INCLUDING MOWING ONE ACRE OF EFFING GRASS in time to still get to walk to school (that’s my new thing)… SURE I HAD TO GET UP AT 6AM TO GET IT ALL DONE BUT WHATEVER AT LEAST I’M NOT IN POOR MR P’S SITUATION.

So, I walked 6k to school, sat through a three hour lecture, and then went to the bathroom to pop my poise into my underwear for a nice 6k run home. Pop my Poise. WTF? What has my life become?! There was only one problem.

I forgot to wear underwear.

Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem since I am not an underwear or bra-loving human, but where the hell was I gonna’ pop my poise?! Underwear keeps your poise intact. My poise was unravelling, I could feel it in my pulse but come hell or high water, I was running home. I needed to de-stress BEFORE I HAD TO MAKE DINNER AND THEN CLEAN UP ALL ON MY OWN.

So I popped my poise into my shorts and took off. Within 200 meters, I was already leaking a little. POISE MY ASS. A couple km in, I was raging with the machine and feeling pretty pumped, I was running fasttttttt, and had forgotten all about my poise. And that’s kinda’ hard to do because the more you pee, the bigger it gets! You know those magic grow capsule thingys that you add water to and they grow into a dinosaur or whatever? Well, poise is like that, and I was so into the run and the music that I didn’t notice the dinosaur between my legs.

Until it reared its ugly head and dropped right out of my shorts onto the pavement as I was crossing at a busy intersection. My first instinct was to ignore it, BUT A MILLION CARS WERE WATCHING AND DINOSAURS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE EXTINCT EXCEPT THIS ONE WASN’T. It was in plain view for everyone to see. And it was clear that I was the owner of the truant dinosaur. And there was nothing poised about this situation.

Except for me.

I turned and quickly swiped the dinosaur into my hand and with great poise continued running. It’s a car! It’s a plane! No! It’s Superwoman!¬†

My next 3km were the fastest I’ve run in a year. And I couldn’t stop smiling.

POISE MY ASS.

AND I REFUSE TO WIPE MR P’s ASS. THERE ARE LIMITS ON MY COMPASSION.


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