The Perils of a Pre-Race Starbucks Run

Faithful readers will remember I had a successful 6 mile race in Santa Cruz last month. It was a fantastic race with loopster Medievalist (V). Perfect weather, great course, good company, PR.

However, I didn't really give you the full picture...

Normally I like to have one good cup of coffee when I get up. It wakes me up and gets me ready to race. People say it also "gets things moving", although pre-race nerves usually take care of that anyway. At home we set the coffee maker up to make kind of weak coffee, because DW and I just like it that way. I finish my cup early enough that I have time to 'process' it.

In Santa Cruz, there was no coffee maker in the dorm room, so V and I hit Starbucks on the way to the race. I got my usual grande mocha, and we made our way to the parking lot. I was still finishing that lovely cup of highly caffeinated goodness as we arrived at the start line, less than an hour before gun time.

I was wired and ready to race, and had time for a pit stop before we did our warmup jog. Then about ten minutes before gun, I felt the urge to pee again. But the lines were too long, so I just "sucked it up" and got ready to race.

During the race, the little voice from my bladder was ever present, but I told him to be quiet and wait. Normally, it goes away once I get moving. But I blame the super-caffeinated Starbucks blend for persistently tormenting my bladder sphincter. "Let us out! Let us out!" Still, I had things under control.

But, maybe I'm just getting old.

I crossed the finish line after a monumental PR effort had exhausted all my physical reserves, and as soon as I slowed to a walk the bladder just said "**** it. I'm done." and released. I had absolutely no control over it and I just went and pissed myself in a big way.



So it was a mixture of emotions. I was elated with breaking 42 minutes, completely dead and trying to breathe normally, and then there was pee filling my shorts.

And there was V, waiting there at the finish line to congratulate me.

"Hey, I broke 42! And I just pissed myself!" You just gotta laugh, right?

Immediately there was a photographer there, so we did a pose. V's smirk makes more sense now because of what she just heard. Here is the pic I put in my race report.


But here's the money shot. The "full picture". Go ahead, have a good laugh. I can take it.



Feel free to post your own caption below.

I figured I was wet with sweat anyway, so it wouldn't be noticeable. Photo kind of proves otherwise however.

But at that point, what can you do. So I forgot about it. We got water and snacks and our finisher t-shirt and walked around a bit. Thanks to modern wicking technology I guess it dried soon enough. Yet we still had to get on a school bus to get back to my car, where at least I had a towel.

So there you have it. It's not the worst thing to ever happen to a runner. And I'm a big enough man to spread the joy of a good story. And picture.