Target Practice


So I got pooped on for the first time.

I didn’t even know it until about mile 10 when I reached the park for my bottle of contraband electrolyte-infused water and a potty break. That’s when I saw it…the white-ish black-ish blob on my left shoulder. Oddly, I thought it was funny and I ran the whole way home with it still on my shoulder. Yes, I was slightly embarrassed as I ran next to cars sitting at a stoplight, knowing they could see the white blob as clear as day and were probably laughing thinking I didn’t know that I had been pooped on. I had to feign a back itch behind my right shoulder a few times to cover up the blob, but when I got home I couldn’t wait to take a picture of the results of a little birdie’s target practice. It’s kind of like a badge of honor…my bullseye on a run. Not that I want it to happen again, but for some strange reason I feel like I earned it. Like if you run so long you are inevitably going to get hit at some point, and when you do, it just proves that you didn’t go out for a dainty little jog. NO! You are a fierce, fearless athlete who doesn’t let a little I knew everyone would want to see this up close.cold or wind or a Christmas Eve case of Montezuma’s Revenge or stepping in doggie doo or being the bullseye in a flock of birds’ target practice stop her!  No, sir!  I am a RUNNER!!

Okay, so I do have to admit that I realize the poop landed on me the only time I wore an Iowa State T-shirt on a run.  I do see the irony in this.  I even think that I saw a black and gold jersey fly past my head around mile 10.  Better luck next year.  Suckers.

“Things that hurt, instruct.”  -Benjamin Franklin

“If you are going to be a champion, you must be willing to pay a greater price.”  -Bud Wilkinson


About virginmarathoner

I'm 32, about to be 33, and realizing that I only have one life to live. This gradual but recent epiphany has inspired me make choices to face the things that I thought I could never do, but secretly desired to accomplish. The first of these was to train for my first half marathon, terrified that I would never be able to run past 7 miles (my longest run prior to beginning training). The first day I ran 8 miles, I cried the entire last mile...with a smile on my face. I'm sure it was a curious sight for any one of the hundreds of soccer moms and little toddlers crowding and blocking my path that morning at the park. Each time I ran a new distance, I felt empowered and proud of my determination and dedication. The day of the half marathon I knew I was addicted. Running gave me clarity, discipline and a renewed passion for living. Now I am about to embark on a new adventure, running my first marathon, and hope that others will be able to relate to my adventures, struggles and mishaps along the way. Afterall, we've only got one life to live, so we better get on it.

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