If you gotta pee, then pee. 12 miles.
Sorry, folks! I have been slacking. It’s taper time, so you know what that means. Less training = less to write about? (Not really. I just dropped the ball.) So in the spirit of the taper, aka the light-hearted comic relief of training, I have decided to address what lots are not willing to publicly discuss: pee!
**Now, elite runners: ignore my advice. Odds are, you will be peeing and pooing in your running shorts.**
For the rest of us who aren’t planning on the podium, here is what I advise: use the port-a-potties.
Now this is coming from a gal who ALWAYS waits until the last minute to go. I have more accident stories than I am really comfortable to admit. But I’ve ultimately decided that I can’t let my competitive nature get the best of me. It’s not like I’m going to win this race. And for those who’ve been through the rigors of long distance running, you know that what you consume runs right through you.
At the end of the day, your decision to stop at that potty isn’t just for you. It’s for me, too. I would rather not have to run down wind, if you know what I mean.