My Brothers Failed Me

I'm the girl in the striped shirt.
My older brother is on my right. My cousin is on my left, and
my little brother is the one next to her.

At some point I'll stop posting about the half marathon, and start posting other things. However, today is not that day. Today I feel the need to discuss three things I don't know how to do that could have helped me during the race. Three things most brothers teach their sisters, or so I've heard. Three things my brothers did not teach me.

If you're not a runner or if you get grossed out easily, you might not want to continue reading. Just consider this your warning.

I grew up on a small farm. 20 acres, two creeks, lots of animals, and two brothers. I was the middle child and the only girl. I was the girl who liked playing in the mud, but usually wanted to dress like a princess as I played. I was a muddy primadona, a rough and tumble girly girl. Best of both worlds, right? I liked sports and dolls, wrestling and dancing, proper etiquette and burping my abc's. I learned a lot from my brothers, like how to throw a punch and a seriously good fast ball (something I've completely forgotten), make a bow and arrow out of a tree limb and spare string, and enjoy being outside living life like a kid is supposed to. Thing is, they didn't teach me three things I think would have helped me run faster or at least feel more comfortable in Saturday's race. That is why I must declare that they failed me. Let me explain in detail.

1. I've never peed in the woods. I know, right? How can you spend your summers barefoot, running through the woods and not pee behind a tree? I always went home, and this past Saturday, I had to pee at the start of the race. I held it til we got to the porta potties and stood in line. I lost a lot of precious time. Then as I passed wooded areas along the course, I saw runners making a mad dash for the trees. Actually a guy used a tree right next to the road, right next to us running. That was interesting. Anyway, I was jealous. Somehow that part of country living escaped me, and I wondered how I missed that. You might not think that falls into the 'brother teaching' realm, but I feel like they could have at least encouraged me a little.

2. I've never successfully hocked a loogie. I train with a girl who can hock and spit a perfect loogie six feet into the woods with no choking or dribbling. She says her brother taught her (AND she has no problem peeing in the woods). Before I started running, I would have been disgusted. Now, I'm jealous. Especially during the race when my saliva got thick and the act of swallowing was making me nauseous. Oh, I've tried. Trying to get the glob from my throat to the ground without choking or sliming myself has proven to be over my head. I even read an article from a runner's blog that detailed how to hock the perfect loogie. I followed every step and still couldn't manage anything but pathetic dribble while choking on the glob in my throat. I'm thinking maybe this is like learning a new language, when my brain and throat were primed to learn this skill, no one taught me. I blame my brothers.

3. I don't know how to shoot a snot rocket. Now this is another skill I could see no use for until I started running, but you can't carry a box of tissues with you on long runs or races. You can't properly use them and dispose of them even if you could carry the box. Blowing your nose into your shirt is just too disgusting to be done except in dire emergencies. And wiping the snot away with your hands and arms (what I had to do Saturday after I had used up my one Kleenex graciously given to me by my always prepared friend and training partner) is just as disgusting. So, what's left? Shooting a snot rocket, off course preferably into the woods. This is a lot like the loogie thing, there's a technique for getting it properly launched away from your face and body. I've only attempted this one time on a trail run. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. I might as well have just used my shirt and my hands. Now, I can't actually tell you for sure that my brothers even have this skill. I don't think I've ever seen them shoot a snot rocket. So, I'm just assuming since they're men, it comes naturally. Don't most really disgusting things just come naturally to them?

I love my brothers. They were pretty great to me growing up, well minus smashing Junebug shells in my hair. I may never forgive them for that. All in all they were pretty respectful of my being girly and liking it. But, in teaching me gross boyish things that could help me on my quest to conquer race distances most people think are crazy. Well, in that, they failed me.

I'm coming in behind the curve here, and I may never figure it out. Thanks guys!