Day 1: Mayday! Mayday!

For my 30th birthday I've decided to run 30K a day, every day that I work, until I've done it 30 times. Since I'm only doing it on work days, the 30 days are not consecutive. Why? I'll save that for another post. I've got a better story.

Today was Day 1 of my 30 in 30. Today I also happen to be on my period. It's gross, but it's a fact of life, and it's relevant to the story. When it's "that time of the month" a girl has a decision to make: stick a diaper in your underwear or jam a wad of cotton up your twat. Both are unpleasant and offer all disadvantages and no advantages. I went for the crappy "disadvantage" that they have free at work with no wings and cheap adhesive. Then I went out to the treadmill to zone out and watch some TV.

18.6 miles on a treadmill might sound like torture to you, but I don't mind it, especially if I have limited time. Treadmills do make me sweat more though. I sweat a lot. By mile 16 I was soaked in sweat, my shorts were plastered to my legs, and the maintenance lady on her hands and knees cleaning in front of my treadmill was looking really pissed at the sweaty mess I was making. But I was still feeling really good, able to push the pace from time to time to keep it interesting when... All of a sudden... Oh fuck!

Is that?

Yeah, I'm pretty sure... What do I do if...?!

It felt like my "disadvantage" had shifted. If it had just drifted backward in my underpants, that wouldn't be so bad, so I dropped to a walk and tried to discretely investigate. In case you're wondering, No, there is no way to discretely check that something in your underwear is still in your underwear. Something was definitely wrong. Or had I started my run with a pad at mid-thigh?

This was bad. There are 2 bathrooms in the building: each about 100m away in either direction. Behind me was another row of cardio equipment. All I could picture was my bloody "inconvenience" falling out of my shorts, hitting the treadmill, being launched across the room, and flying into the shins of the 2:20 marathoner running directly behind me (how often do you get to say that?!). MAYDAY! MAYDAY! SOMEBODY HELP ME! 

I stopped the treadmill and waddled to the bathroom, pressing my thighs together the whole time and all the while ready to react faster than the speed of light if my "problem" plopped on the floor along the way. Somehow I made it to the stall, pulled the world's grossest pad out of the bottom hem of my shorts, and cleaned myself up. 

But I still had 1.8 miles left to run... 

Use your imagination.