In a quest for a legitimate excuse for a child-free weekend, coupled with a personal crisis as I approached 40, I impulsively registered for an out-of-town marathon. After a leg injury, my ambitious plans were scaled back to a half marathon, which I begrudgingly accepted. After all, it was amusing to say I had a “sports-related injury,” as if I were a seasoned athlete.
With my parents caring for my children, my partner Jake and I embarked on what I envisioned as a weekend filled with indulgence, punctuated by a 21-kilometer run. Typically, a five-hour car ride through winding roads would be torturous, but sans kids, it felt liberating. We enjoyed uninterrupted conversations, free from whining, car sickness, and incessant snack requests. Well, I did insist on a stop for a Snickers bar, allowing me to indulge in chocolate without the need to hide.
After collecting my race materials and enjoying dinner without the usual bedtime routine, we relished a full night’s sleep. I quickly concluded that out-of-town races were definitely the way to go.
However, as I made my way to the portable restrooms for the traditional pre-race nerves, my body decided to surprise me with an unexpected period. Naturally, I was unprepared—my race pack included band-aids and energy gels, but no tampons.
In a mild panic, I shared my predicament with Jake and we approached the first-aid station, where we waited while the staff assisted a man with chafing issues. “Do you have any tampons?” I asked the first-aid attendant softly. She looked confused and consulted her colleague, both of them whispering, “Do we have any… tampons?” Their embarrassment only intensified my own. I felt compelled to clarify, “It’s day 17 of my cycle, so I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Red-faced, I scanned the bags of nearby women, hoping to catch a glimpse of those playful tampon boxes that advertise menstruation in a lighthearted manner. Jake gallantly offered to ask fellow participants for “feminine products,” which made me love him even more—though I was relieved he refrained from doing so.
The absurdity of the moment washed over me. Why didn’t I just shout, “Hey! Can anyone spare a tampon?” It’s not like the crowd would have recoiled in horror at the mention of menstruation. I live in a developed country, am a 36-year-old mother of two daughters, yet I was flushed with shame. Why is it easier to discuss a man’s chafing than a woman’s period?
With the race about to start, I decided to risk it and relied on my black running pants to see me through. The announcer declared that “over 60% of participants this year are women!” This only fueled my silent outrage. If men had periods, tampons would be ubiquitous and free. But I suppressed my thoughts, wary of amplifying the stigma.
As I began the run, I chastised myself for being overly dramatic. “You call yourself a feminist!” I scolded. Yes, I am, but I didn’t want to make a statement about my menstrual cycle like some women do. It’s important to note, though, that I wholeheartedly respect those who do.
My own experiences with menstruation haven’t been pleasant; they often exacerbated my endometriosis during my teenage years. The arrival of each period in my early 30s was a reminder of yet another month without pregnancy. I only ever appreciated my period when it meant I could skip swimming class in school.
All I wanted was to run the half marathon, celebrate with a bottle of wine at the finish, and not worry about finishing the race looking like an extra from a horror film. Was that too much to ask?
Remarkably, my body seemed to sense my frustration with the surprise period, and I was grateful to enjoy the stunning scenery during the race. One of my best friends even crossed the finish line of her full marathon, and we celebrated with that wine I had envisioned since the start.
Kudos to Jake for being the unsung hero of the day. While I was out running through beautiful landscapes, he went shopping to ensure he was ready to support me with anything a woman might need. I’m thrilled to have him as my partner in raising our daughters, teaching them the importance of asking for what they need—unashamedly.
In closing, if you’re interested in fertility and home insemination resources, check out this article on intracervical insemination. If you’re looking for ways to boost male fertility, this guide on fertility boosters is worth a read. For those seeking comprehensive information on fertility treatments, Johns Hopkins provides excellent resources.
Summary
This narrative explores the humorous yet relatable experience of a woman facing an unexpected period while preparing for a half marathon. It highlights societal taboos surrounding menstruation, the importance of open communication, and the support of partners. The author reflects on her journey, blending humor with a deeper commentary on female experiences.