The answer to my Master Conan’s Riddle of Running is this: you always run faster than everyone who doesn’t participate in the race.
I did really bad. Really really bad. I was a hair from last place. But, I was second in age group.
You can’t win if you don’t play.
I was in very severe pain. I have an extremely high tolerance for pain, yet I was in severe pain. Waah waah. I detest whining. It ended up being much hotter than I expected but not the 88 degrees it was last year. Maybe around 83 FAHRENHEIT!
It was my 109th lifetime distance race. It was one of my poorest performances ever.
My lungs were fine. But the pain level was catastrophic. Who knows when I’ll run in a race again. Almost last place. But… second in age group…
I am a genetic freak. I hate hot weather. No joke, temperatures above 45 Fahrenheit (No Metric you shitty Jacobins!) are uncomfortable 😣 for me.
But I can tolerate heat that would kill most people. When I was in Iraq 🇮🇶 (Just me, only I was there. Not the entire U.S. military, allies and civilian population. It was all me!) Temperatures ranged up to 123 degrees Fahrenheit (But not in Brumaire – no Bonapartiste Metric).
When I was on base, I would run three nights a week ( I ran at midnight when there were no night missions. The big bases had half-marathons 5k’s 10k’s — a sign we had been there too long.)
I would go on patrols with 100 pounds of equipment all day and night. (Taller people’s ballistic plates weigh more) I drank water constantly. I only felt heat exhaustion once after being out of the gate for more 24 hours.
At any rate, I run all year long: sub-zero in January, deep snow in February, 98 degree Fahrenheit July days with extrême humidity (Pronounced humility — like chimney (Pronounced chimley)).
I’m larger than most people. I’m low body fat even at 235 pounds. That has nothing to do with it. I’ve only ever seen super-skinny people go down from heat stroke.
In other words. You have to get used to running in the heat. Don’t run long distances at first. Drink water before you run. Build up slowly. Carry water with you. Don’t commit to a race where you aren’t ready for the heat yet or you will over-extend yourself. If you feel sick, stop.
Even if you’ve run in the heat before, May and June are dangerous. You haven’t had time to adapt.
Accept the reality that heat and humidity are dangerous. If you aren’t ready, don’t do it. Train yourself, drink water. (Only moronic shit-heads say ‘hydrate’)
If you have any other conditions, see your licensed medical professional.
You also may not genetically ever be able to run long distances in heat and humidity, so enjoy running within your limits.
”Can Running make you lose weight oh wise, ancient, del.ic.io.us Botendaddy?”
It was the Weird 😜 Foreign 🇳🇵 Doctor 👩⚕️ Chick 🐥.
”Not really. Running is not a weight loss technique. It’s a hobby and a sport. If you eat too much you can train for a Marathon and gain weight. But everyone needs to talk to their own licensed Physician 👩⚕️ and personal trainer, I am just relating my experience.”
I thusly stated.
“I know the benefits because I run a lot. I’m not as fat as I 👀 look. Ah the taste of it! Good for the lungs, blood chemistry, mood…”
She responded, as we sat on the low wall.
”Here’s my theory, it’s only based on observation of my own body.
1. If you diet carefully, say 200-400 calories below basal rate, Running can help burn a few extra calories to make you lose weight faster.
2. If you diet maybe 200-400 over basal and you run regularly, you might lose weight slowly.
3. If you eat everything in sight, no amount of running can burn enough calories. You can’t recover enough to run enough to counter the thousands of extra calories.
4. If you eat maybe 500-800 over basal which is not really dieting, nor excessive over-eating, I’ve seen that I don’t gain weight if I run at least 10 miles a week. My theory is that if I run 12-15 miles a week, I might see a loss of about a pound a month, which is better than gaining.
I burn about 180 calories per mile. 1,800 Running calories per week. Say I burn 300 from my two workouts. It buys me a lousy 300 calories per day. So I burn 300 extra calories per day. So my weight roughly stays the same. So If I ran 15 miles a week it gets me 3,000 calories per week or 430 per day. 20 miles a week gets me maybe 500 per day, do you see the point? You can’t outrun your mouth 👄.”
I’ve read stories about people who have stopped running outdoors because of bladder or bowel incontinence from IBS, pelvic floor weakness or some other issue.
It makes me kind of sad, because you shouldn’t give up running.
A lot of these posts or articles call it running’s worst nightmare. Here’s a list of real worst running nightmares:
1. You’re paralyzed and you can never run again.
2. You have a severe injury or disease and can never run again.
3. You are hit by a vehicle while running.
4. You have a stroke or heart attack or heat stroke or hypothermia while running.
5. You’re in prison or detention and you are forbidden from running.
I have absolutely no bladder or bowel control when I’m running or working out due to a chronic back injury L-4, L-5, S-1, that required spinal surgery.
I run about 60-100 times a year. I almost always urinate several times while I’m running even if I try to go before I run.
I’ve gone to doctors multiple times who say the condition won’t improve and in so many words, that it’s better than being paralyzed.
I have only gone running exactly once without wearing an adult diaper and incontinence pants since I got back from the war in 2009. I went running back then and almost at the end of the run I had a massive uncontrolled bowel movement and I’ve worn diapers ever since.
I often wear two diapers on longer runs in case I have to change one during the run or race. I carry a diaper bag in my car with extra diapers, wipes, powder and plastic bags. I try to find places with bathrooms or portable toilets so I can change my diaper after a race.
The articles make it sound like it’s preferable to urinate or make a bowel movement in your underwear or going somewhere in public than wearing a pad or a diaper.
It hasn’t stopped me from running. I made a choice to keep running.
I don’t restrict liquid intake and I don’t take any over the counter medications before I run because it isn’t healthy not to be hydrated and who knows what effect the medicines will have.
I’ve never experienced chafing, even if I empty my bladder, it’s no more chafing than you would get from underwear.
I rarely ever had severe diaper rash even after making a full bowel movement during a run. As long as I change as soon as I can when I’m done I’m OK.
I’ve run in almost 100 distance races in that time and no-one has ever noticed or said anything.
So don’t stop running out of vanity or shame or stigma. Literally no-one notices, ever. If they did notice, they wouldn’t say anything. People are wrapped up in their own heads.
The truth is nothing else really works, all the surgery and special exercises and potentially toxic drugs seem ineffective. Just wear the diaper and go run.
I used to worry about it until I realized that no one noticed ever. It’s as if you’ll miss out on a marriage proposal or a million dollars if someone sees you are wearing a diaper. News flash: that isn’t likely while you’re running either way.
If you run in the neighborhood or on the trail, you won’t encounter too many other people running, if any. If you run in a race, people are concentrating on their times and trying to maintain a pace.
I was 🏋️ working out 💪 in the massive Botendaddy gym in one of the myriad (Pronounced My-rid) catacombs of ancient Haunted Utonic Manor.
I was working out with free-weights and plate-loaded machines.
We took three albums out of the box and we played them on the ancient stereo system.
The Lawrence Welk Album led (lead?) off with ‘Winchester Cathedral’ still an awesome tune. It was generally listenable but had a real Austin Powers 60’s vibe. You have to be ultra-retro reverse hip to dig on Lawrence Welk.
Karla Bonhoeffer had a distinct Carly Simon-like sound on some of her tunes. Kind of a romantic mood music 70’s kind of sound. ‘Lose again’ is particularly worth a listen’. Clean and well-performed, though. Apparently she became a renowned songwriter and she’s still touring at 66 and still looks as good as she did in the 70’s.
The Whispers played a lot of 70’s staples. They were an LA troupe. The Album was mostly romantic Soul. ‘Lady’ is a classic.
It actually went quite well. The MapMyRun App and its close companion the iPhone 📱 GPS, were off by about 60 yards per mile. Of course it could have been Mile marker placement, who knows. It’s chicken 🐓-wise vs egg 🍳 iffication.
First Mile, despite extreme leg pain I almost brought it in under ten minutes, but the knee joint was literally going numb and collapsing.
Second mile was disappointing, but I held steady on the third mile and I actually sprinted the last quarter mile for the first time this year.
I may need surgery which is f@&ked, But I was running 27’s last year 37’s this year.
So I’ll see what the doc says. Losing three minutes a mile is brutal.
“It’s official, August 16th is the last day of the Writer’s Workshop. As soon as you receive your diploma for your bizarre advanced degree in god-knows-what, we are all being kicked off campus. Hell I’m retiring, so I don’t give a f*&k.” Said the Professor.
“Yeah, no matter how much money my Kingdom donates, you can’t have a workshop without a Professor and a Graduate Student sponsor. Without the Professor, who’s going back to North Dakota and that shit-covered Botendaddy who is going back to his ancient, mysterious Utonic Manor to count his riches, we are screwed.” Stated Gryzwacz-Eek-Opp-Ork-Ah-Ah the alien. “We even petitioned the King Garbage Bolean himself and he told to me to take a flying f*&k at a rolling doughnut. He gives a lot of money to Pitt anyway, but he f*&king hates Penn State. Every alien in the universe hates Penn State, because they suck.”
“Penn State does suck.” Said the Park Ranger.
“Hail to Pitt.” Said the Caribbean Queen
“Go Panthers.” Said Hiroyuki
“What the f*&k are we supposed to do now, fatty? I have no external life. The Writer’s Workshop and fat-hate were all I had. My life is sh&t.” Said the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady.
“Botendaddy, you got us into all this. If I don’t se you every week, my Spanish Patagonian soul will wither and die.” Said Ramon
“Botendaddy is an 455h013 at any rate.” Added the Stalker.
“I am going to start a poet’s group.” Offered Devon. “But this group doesn’t know sh&% about poetry, or verse or rhyme.”
“I am a part of all I have met, though much is taken, much abides, that which we are, we are… one equal temper of heroic heart, to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield. –Aeschylus….” Quod, I dramatically.
“This is sad.” Whispered the Librarian. “My life is also equally meaningless. I know this is a group of mis-shapen, freakish runners, writers and preparers of haut cuisine, but we were like a weird sort of family with the Professor as the matriarch and Botendaddy as the perverted Jim Jones slash David Koresh like cult reader. I mean he f*&ked everyone here.”
“He literally drowned them in 5p3rm.” Said Guyasuta wistfully. “Drowned, inundated with his precious bodily fluids.”
“An equal opportunity pervert.” Added the Weird Foreign Doctor Chick. “I can never go back to Nepal now. He has sullied me with his 5p3rm4t0z04. Every single orifice defiled and some other 53x acts that I never even heard of. Ah the taste of it! Now I have to like, go to work and pretend that I care what I’m doing. I have no other friends. Because I’m weird, I’m foreign. I’m a doctor and I’m a chick. But mostly because I’m weird.”
“He made me feel so dirty. He allowed me to truly hate myself to depths I never imagined. He is old, disgusting, ugly. I wanted to chew my arm off to get away from him. I am madly in love with him. He should marry me and not you stupid cvnt5! Plus we’re both from New York.” Said the Punker Model Writer Chick.
“I’m sitting back here, I am in the room.” I added helpfully.
“I DOWNVOTE YOU!” Shrilled the Angry Online Social Justice Warrior guy. “I YEARN FOR YOU TRAGICALLY! SEIZE MY ORIFICES! I LGBTQ+ABCDE LOVE YOU!” He neckbearded.
“No-one cares about any of you.” Said the No-one cares lady. “You’re all a bunch of useless anuses (anii) a bunch of talentless, stupid cock-bombs.”
“Hey yunz (not yinz) f*&kin’ sh^theads need to clear out of here. I got to clean this f*&king room.” Said fat, hairy, unionized physical plant guy. FHUPPG “A new group is coming in here. A bunch of, whaddya call, real writers.”
“I got in all my free weight workouts this year! I ran a 7:58 mile! I ran a 27:42 5k. It was a great workout year. By the way, the only way to fail as a writer is to stop writing. So write on, my beloved disciples, write on.”
“Let’s all get in Botendaddy’s party van, get wasted enroute go to Utonic Manor and 94n9 84n9.” Said the CEO.
“Honey Mocha with Nutmeg?”
The writer’s workshop filed out of the Cathedral into the waiting party van.
The FHUPPG swept up the room. He picked up a pile of the manuscripts produced by the group and threw them into a filthy shit-covered trash bin. Then he turned off the lights.
“Sorry, hack has only one meaning in the sense of finding a unique way to solve a problem. It is only applicable in Software Engineering and nowhere else. Ooh try this ‘Life Hack’ try this ‘health hack’ STFU! Stop it! WRONG!
‘TED Talks’ suck miles of monster c@ck. I hate them. I don’t want to be forced to listen to them. When I listen to a TED Talk I feel like my life is wasting away and my soul is dying. Just stop it already. I hate everything about them.
‘Rep’ applies only in one meaning: performing a repetition of a weightlifting exercise AND NOTHING ELSE! Ooh the quarterback got in reps at practice. No he did not. Only if he was bench pressing. End of story.”
Example: our new Quarterback did this new United Airlines hack and he had the shit beaten out of him, because United sucks goat anus, then he listened to a TED Talk about how great the United Ticket Transfer Fee was and he was so shocked that he defecated on hisself. Then he got in a few reps of having more shit beaten out of him as he was dragged off the plane.”
The professor stood up slowly in front of the entire Writers Workshop clapping slowly. Soon the entire Writers Workshop joined in.
“You are a true sexual genius, Botendaddy”, said the CEO. “United truly does suck goat anus and they must ‘change their policies'”
“Yes we need more reps of your literary critiques because they suck like United.” Said Ramon.
“I have a good hack for you, Yon Botendaddy, don’t f@&king fly United.” Said Devon.
I swore to do no more public literary reviews or reviews of the arts. I even was at Krause Gallery again in Manhattan this summer with Herr Rochibauld Sachse-Heutelier and Doctor Otsego, but I wrote no review.
One of my favorite memories of Bosnia is driving alone through the cool air, headed towards Sarajevo past Velez mountain playing my Weather Report™ CD.
My favorite tune was ‘Birdland’, but I’m now partial to Jaco’s rendering of Pee Wee Ellis’ ‘The Chicken’.
What a classic funky jazz piece.
It’s right up there with Herbie Hancock’s amazing ‘Chameleon’.
At any rate, driving alone windows down, feeling the cool air, packing my useless 9mm Beretta it was a good feeling.
Imagine spending 22 years waiting to do something and never getting to do it?
What if you ran for 22 years but were never allowed to enter a race?
What if you went to Law School or Med School or Engineering School and you never tried a case, treated a patient or built a bridge?
You get the picture.
So there I was, after hanging out in Luxembourg, Germany, France, Belgium, England, Ft. Riley, Ft. Sill, Ft. Drum, Ft. Benning, etc., but never did a damn thing in the operational environment.
Sure, I ended up in Iraq well after Bosnia, but what a feeling! To be there! To be doing it! Missions! Minefields! Confrontations! Idiots shooting at each other, but not at me. Dubrovnik! The old walled city! The Adriatic.
So there I was listening to the funky base of Jaco. And I remember.
I did pass my APFT and my two mile run on the trail recently cleared of landmines on Mostar Base, but that’s another story.
I was sitting on a bench overlooking Montreal from on top of Mont Royal. The Adirondacks loomed in the distance.
“You know, Librarian, you can’t explain an abnormal situation to people who are used to normalcy.”
It was cold but dry. I liked the cold, she did not.
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Let’s say you work somewhere that your boss is literally insane, a psycho, they torment you every day. If you try to explain the situation to someone who works in a normal environment with sane, professional people, your friend will give you advice that only works in a normal place.”
The Librarian looked through one of the 25 cents pay-magnifiers.
“OK, in the Army we had this commander who ran the unit like a cult, never gave anyone any free time, micro-managed everything down to the lowest level, demanded inane time-wasting reports and asked mindless questions about idiotic minutiae. Not an evil person, but either OCD or quite insane. So if you explained it to someone from another unit, they cocked their head like a dog who doesn’t understand human speech.”
I put my jacket around the Librarian because she looked cold.
“Maybe I get it, I don’t know.”
“Like in Bosnia, I could be walking side by side with the Canadian and I would get threatening look or even verbal threats. The Canadian had no awareness at all because it wasn’t directed at him. Or the psycho boss I had at work who timed how long I spent in the bathroom and every time I asked for direction she would say I shouldn’t have to tell you your job, and we would have to guess the agenda.”
“Like in Twilight Zone when the little girl went into the Fourth Dimension or when the officers of the Caine went to visit Admiral Halsey. You can’t explain the inexplicable to people who only have normal as a reference. You can’t go over your crazy boss’ head if his boss or HR thinks your boss is wonderful.”
“OK, a tesseract is a cube in the fourth dimension. You can’t describe it to a person in the third dimension. It would be like explaining a cube to Flat Stanley, there is no frame of reference.”
“It’s about advice. The person who lives in normalcy always tries to give advice to the person who lives in crazy world. The advice giver doesn’t understand that the rules are totally different. If you’ve never worked for an irrational boss how can you give advice to the person who works for a crazy boss who is supported by even crazier management? If you’ve always been thin, how do you give weight loss advice to someone who has always been fat? If you run a five minute mile how do you give advice to someone who just started running, has bad knees and runs a thirteen-minute Mile?”
“I get it, crazy world has a totally different set of rules. Roberts Rules of Order don’t apply to street gangs, terrorists don’t follow the Geneva Convention and there is no Marquis of Queensberry Rules in a bar fight. You can’t give advice if you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”
“Correctamundo, hence the tesseract.”
“Shut up and f@&k me, you useless f&$cking idiot.”