Thursday, November 9, 2023

TMI and My Mind is Blown

Raise your hand if you didn't get your period until you were 16. 

Yes, in fact, I was 192 months old (16) when 
I got my mine

Funny side story: We were visiting the ruins in Olympia, Greece when mine started. I think this means something, but I'm not sure what. Maybe that I am meant to go to the Olympics. Or, maybe I was just trying to get out of seeing one more Greek temple. 

(Also, why do they call it a period? Well, I just googled it and OMG! Now I know the Greek-connection. "Period is rooted in the Greek words "peri" and "holdos" meaning "around" and "way/path." This eventually turned into the Latin "periodus" meaning "recurring cycle." My mind is blown.)

I've always been somewhat of a late bloomer. Rumor has it (according to my mom) that I was difficult and late in my potty training because I had trouble pooping and sometimes just flat out refused to go. This is highly ironic if you have read this blog for any period of time. There have been many runs and races where I wish I had trouble pooping because that would have saved me lots of time in porta potties, bushes and tunnels (yes, a tunnel. A story for another day).  In other late blooming news,  I didn't lose my virginity until the age of 28 (I kid. I'm not going to tell you the real age I was, but it was probably later than most). Finally, I am still waiting to sprout breasts. Proud IBTC member here.

You know what else I was late at? Running. I didn't start running until I was 41 years old. Like most things in my life, I came to it by chance. You see, I'm not the best at going after things. I tend to wait around until something comes to me (I'm not saying this is the way to live life, but it's my pattern). So, one day I got a post card in the mail from Team in Training (Leukemia and Lymphoma Society) inviting to me to raise money and exchange they would train me to run a marathon. Why not? I ran my first 26.2 in Phoenix on January 18, 2009 in a time of 4:03. It was right after that I wrote my first ever blog post, which totally cracks me up to look at because I had no pictures of me running or the finish. Just a photo of my ugly, bruised toenail.

Is that a penis shaped popsicle?

Funny side story: I was so new to running that I had no clue how to carry things. I safety-pinned 6 gels on my singlet and shorts. I am still wondering how the hell I ran and unpinned 6 gels. What a dork.

Since that day the post came 15 years ago, I cannot stop running. I'm no Forrest Gump, but it's got a hold on me now and all I do is look for that next race or opportunity. God help me if my knees give out like Aunt Ethel says they will, or my uterus falls out like they warned Katherine Switzer (first woman to officially run Boston) that hers would. 

So, what is my point? You guessed it: It's never too late to start. Just because you haven't done something for the first 40, 50, 60 years of your life doesn't mean you can't start now. Maybe you used to run but it's been 20 years since you last tried and you think those days are behind you. Give it a try. Take a chance at that thing that scares you enough to take your breath away. Let's hear it for late bloomers!

When did you start running?

Are you a late bloomer in anything? 

Got a good period story?