In a quest for a legitimate excuse to enjoy a child-free weekend, coupled with a mid-life crisis as I approached 40, I registered for an out-of-town marathon. After suffering a leg injury, I downgraded my ambitions to a half marathon, which didn’t bother me much—after all, it was amusing to claim I had a “sports-related injury,” as if I were someone who regularly engaged in athletic activities.
With my parents watching the kids, my husband and I embarked on what I envisioned as a weekend filled with indulgent eating, drinking, and a 21-kilometer run. Typically, I would prefer to endure childbirth rather than a winding five-hour car ride, but traveling without children was a delight. We enjoyed uninterrupted conversations, free from complaints, car sickness, or incessant snack requests. I did, however, insist on a stop for a Snickers bar, relishing the chance to enjoy chocolate in the car without feeling the need to hide it.
After collecting my race packet and enjoying dinner without the usual bedtime routines, we had a full night’s sleep, reinforcing my belief that out-of-town runs were the way to go. However, as I prepared for the race and ducked into a portable toilet for my customary pre-race ritual, I was unpleasantly surprised by the onset of an unexpected menstrual period. My bag contained band-aids, energy gels, my iPod, and headphones, but no tampons.
After a few choice expletives, I explained my dilemma to my husband, and we sought help at the first-aid station, where a man ahead of us was being offered various solutions for his chafing problem. “Do you have any tampons?” I asked the first-aid attendant in a hushed tone. She looked bewildered, turning to her colleague, and they whispered back and forth about whether they had that kind of product available. I felt compelled to clarify, “Look, it’s day 17 of my cycle—I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Feeling flustered and panicked, I discreetly scanned the bags of nearby women, hoping to spot a familiar box of tampons. My husband even proposed asking other women for “feminine products,” and while I appreciated his willingness to help, I had to decline. The absurdity of the situation struck me: Why didn’t I just shout, “Hey! Can anyone spare a tampon?” It’s not as if fellow runners would scream, “Unclean! She’s cursed! Banish her!”
Despite living in a progressive country, where I am a 36-year-old mother of two daughters, I felt inexplicably ashamed. It’s ironic that discussing a man’s rash seems less taboo than mentioning a woman’s period. As the starting gun was about to fire, I decided to take a chance and wear my black running pants, hoping they would suffice. The announcer proclaimed that “over 60% of this year’s entrants are women!” which only fueled my frustration over #TamponGate. If men experienced menstruation, there would undoubtedly be a plethora of accessible tampons available everywhere.
During the initial stages of the run, I chastised myself for being overly dramatic. “You call yourself a feminist!” I scolded inwardly. “Yes, I do,” I replied, “but I don’t want to make a statement with my menstruation like that lady who ran the London Period Marathon!” Yet, I acknowledge the importance of their messages. I’ve never been fond of periods; they worsened my endometriosis during my teenage years, and the disappointment of not being pregnant during my early 30s was heartbreaking. The only time I enjoyed my period was when it provided an excuse to skip swimming at school.
All I wanted was to complete a half marathon, enjoy a bottle of wine afterward, and avoid the embarrassment of crossing the finish line looking like an extra from a horror film. Was that too much to ask?
Miraculously, my body seemed to calm down, allowing me to appreciate the breathtaking scenery while running. I also had the pleasure of witnessing one of my best friends complete her full marathon. Finally, we celebrated with that much-anticipated bottle of wine, anticipated since the tenth minute of my run, when I realized that a half marathon, while shorter than a full, is still a considerable distance.
Kudos to my husband, who, while I jogged through vineyards and olive groves among thousands of participants, went shopping to ensure he had everything an unprepared woman might need at the finish line. I am grateful that he is my partner in raising our daughters to grow into confident women who will unabashedly ask for tampons when they need them.
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In summary, while navigating the challenges of womanhood can be daunting, it’s essential to embrace our experiences and support each other in overcoming hurdles, whether they are related to menstruation, motherhood, or personal aspirations.
Keyphrase: Running a Half Marathon and Womanhood Challenges
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