Running With Your Period: Here Are Your Options
Last week, we posted Role Mother Melissa’s unforgettable essay about running her first Goofy Challenge (that’s half on Saturday and a full on Sunday) while on “Day Two” of her period. If you haven’t read it yet, stop right now and go. It’s worth it.
Melissa’s post came out of a Facebook post (on pantliner chafing vs. light tampons) that turned into a call to long-distance runners for their tips and advice (and stories). And we want to deliver those ideas for the next time you find yourself facing a long run or race and that time of the month. It’s a mix of a 2012 post SBS put together on race-day running with your period and some updates with new products that have come onto the market since then. We hope you find it helpful! (An obvious warning: TMI ahead!)
Tips to power through running with period pain.
-Shorten the string.
Women have complained to us about chafing from a tampon string. (Yeah, we hear it all–we love nothing better than a good overshare!) One mother runner, Christine, told us cuts it shorter so that no string hangs outside her body. SBS took to knotting her OBs and snipping the string. Another chafe-avoiding tactic we’ve read about online: Liberally apply BodyGlide to the string hanging outside your body.
-Investigate the Diva Cup.
A menstrual cup used in lieu of a tampon or pad. One can hold the flow for up to 12 hours so bring on that ultra or 70.3 race. (Like the next option, this one isn’t for the squeamish.) Another mother runner Christy Zuzelo is a fan; here’s a post she wrote about it.
-Pop pills.
Our favorite mother runner OB/GYN, Amanda Hurtubise, gave us this news-to-us suggestion if you have a race coming up (read: rescheduling is not an option). “For women who are not on hormonal contraception a great trick is, ‘scheduled ibuprofen.’ Take 600-800mg three times a day, 1-2 days immediately prior to and during the period. Non-steroidal anti-inflammatories (NSAIDs) constrict the blood vessels to the uterus and can significantly decrease menstrual flow. The key is to take it consistently 3x daily prior to and during bleeding. It won’t work if just taken haphazardly. This trick will also help with any cramping.”
-Try some absorption undies.
There are a few on the market, the newest of which is Thinx, which offers a sports brief with comfort-fit leg holes and a soft, breathable cotton interior. The moisture-wicking tech fabric holds one and half tampons worth of fluid. Dear Kate is another option with a sport brief in multiple cuts. Again, the high-tech fabric is wicking, stain releasing, and leak-resistant. Both brands suggest you use your own discretion as to whether you double up with a tampon, but this is a pretty good option for a few hours on the course.
Now, it’s your turn to overshare: Have any tips for dealing with your monthly visitor during a long run or race?
6 Running Motivation Tips When You’re Hitting a Wall
Our Role Mothers have offered us advice, tips, and support on everything from training logs to nutrition, so it’s only natural we ask them…what keeps them going? Whether they’re trying to get up and go or keep one foot in front of the other, check out their running motivation tips and tell us if any of them resonate with you below in the comments section.
Nicole, the regular runner
If I’m on a long run and hit a wall, I allow myself 20 seconds of Walk & Whine. This is 20 seconds (max) where I can walk (at a decent pace) and complain about the crappy run, the stinky weather, the guy ahead of me’s annoying green shirt—whatever I want to gripe about—but when the time is up, back at it, Blades! The little moment of bratty bitching typically gets my focus realigned and I’m ready to finish strong.
Tania, the sputterer
I’ll start singing my favorite jams and start dance running. That can quickly change my mood and energy level, and I just keep running.
Ashley, the beginner
In my toughest mile, my go-to phrase of encouragement is “She Believed She Could So She Did.” When I first took the plunge to start training for a half marathon, my sister-in-law, Melissa, gifted me a Momentum Jewelry Wrap with that very phrase on it. All it takes during each run is a simple glance down at my wrist to remind me that I can conquer anything I put my mind to.
Pam, the grandmother
On tough runs, I think about my family. I think of my mom’s Grandma GG, whose husband died in a farm accident when their twins were just 6 months old and my grandpa was 2 years old. And how she went to work to provide for her family. I think of my husband’s Great Grandma Bertha, who told me on her wedding day they took a horse and buggy to the town to get on a train to ride to the big city of Wichita to get married. I could go on and on. By thinking about the lives they lead, I stop thinking about the run. And I feel each one of them cheering me on!
Melissa, the marathoner
When I’m at mile 25, I’m usually thinking, “Sweet mother of God, Mary, Joseph, and whoever else is currently keeping me upright, just exactly how long is 1 POINT 2 miles anyway? Please mirage of a finish line, come closer!!”
Sarah, the triathlete
When I need a motivation, I call a BRF (or, in my case, a BTF—Best Training Friend) and meet up for a run, bike, or swim. Surrounding myself with strong, ambitious athletes is all the motivation I need!
What helps you stay motivated? Tell us below.
#216: Summer Running Advice
From popsicles to perceived effort, Sarah and co-host Coach Christine Hinton offer up all the advice you need to survive sweltering summer running. The mother runner answer questions submitted via Facebook, including the definition of getting acclimated to heat and how to do it. Christine talks about the vicious cycle of humidity and how to beat heat from the inside out. The coach spells out the signs of heat stroke and heat exhaustion, and she gives advice for preventing heat headaches. Sarah addresses air quality issues, a concern especially in Western states during wildfire season. Find out how whiskey and vodka work their way into the conversation, as well as Sarah’s latest peeing-on-the-run trick. Laugh along with the gals about the kooky side business they scheme up mid-show. Puns (and laughter) abound in this hour+ episode.
*Check out the new running tank tops Sarah describes at the end of the show.
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*Get more details about AMR Retreat: Run + Refresh in Spokane, Wash., September 22-25, on the Retreat page of our website. Or register here.
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Dry Martini: Dry Heaves
I was all set to tell you about how different two long runs can be; then the above email showed up in my inbox and I had to go breathe into a paper bag until I could type again.
Note the subject line, which is “Your Training Journey Begins Today.” Note the sender, which is the New York Road Runners. Note the topic, which is the intimate marathon said Road Runners host in New York City in November. Which I am running. Which I am having second thoughts about running because, seriously. Why did I think this would be a good idea?
This email made the whole marathon thing real in a way that it hadn’t quite yet been. While the subject line is inaccurate in my case — my running training won’t actually start until a little bit into July — my freaking-the-freak out training started the instant I got this email.
I can think of so many reasons why this whole enterprise is doomed. And, yes, I do start every new challenge with a mental run-through of every worse case scenario that I can dream up. I do this so reflexively that I wonder if I should have gone into insurance.
Ranging from most likely to happen to least likely as I try to take on the NYC marathon:
- I incur some debilitating injury and wind up not being able to run the race. The odds-on favorite injury will involve my right calf, which never wants to be a team player.
- The hot and humid weather in July, August, and early September saps all of the will to run right out of my body and I give up on the activity entirely to take up full-contact knitting.
- I can’t find anywhere in Florence, Italy, to do my long runs when we are on our long anticipated 10-day trip there in September. Or, more likely, I get so lost and/or distracted by vineyards in Tuscany that I never manage to find my way home. Which doesn’t really sound so bad, now that I think about it.
- My 18-weeks of training leaves me so worn out that I fall asleep at my Actual Job one time too many and am replaced by a moderately trained capuchin.
- My long training runs take so long — I’m really not a fast runner, y’all — that my children turn feral, my husband gives me up for dead, and my dog forgets me.
- Race day volcano in Brooklyn.
But, realistically, my money is on injury, which seems to be what trips up so many would-be marathoners. My intentions are to foam roll like its my only job, sleep at every opportunity, and book massage/acupuncture sessions on the regular.
Rather than put my question to the Tribe at the end of this post, I’ll stick it here: What else should I do to take care of myself during this training cycle? I’m hoping your answers involve pints of Ben and Jerry’s.
Oh – and about those two long runs that I mentioned in that first sentence. The difference between the two was entirely weather-related because early summer in the Northeast is a fickle mistress.
I talked about my seven mile run on the Father’s Day podcast. In case you missed it, the Facebook status I posted after I’d dried off pretty much sums it up:
Running in a deluge is a lovely reminder of what it means to be alive — and also a lovely reminder of how great a warm shower and dry clothes can be.
Contrast that with last Saturday’s Eminem run. Those eight miles were as hot and humid as the previous week’s run was wet. It was like a deluge of all that I dislike about summer. I managed to stay both hydrated and zippy through mile six. Then Voldesun climbed all the way above the tree cover and upped the torture level.
After a little bit of a sulk (okay – more than a little) about the situation, I managed to come up with some ideas about how to lessen the misery. I focused on my cadence rather than the sun. I watched the shadow that my kicky new (and now favorite) running skirt made on the bright sidewalk front of me, swishing back and forth with each step. I gave talking about myself in the third person another go. “Adrienne is strong,” I thought. “Adrienne is as fresh as a daisy.”
All of that worked. Rather than give up during those last two miles, I kept my head (mostly) in the run. “Adrienne still felt a little dorky with the third person bit,” however, and is trying to work through her issues.
Speaking of the New York City marathon, I’m *thisclose* to my fund-raising goal. All of the donations are for Every Mother Counts. Every two minutes, a mother dies as a result of pregnancy or childbirth. Ninety-eight percent of these deaths are preventable. EMC is working to make sure that every mother has access to health care and support.
The TMI of Running With Your Period…You’ll Never Forget
A few weeks ago, we saw the Tribe gather, like, comment, and share around a Facebook post regarding periods. You were especially helpful and forthcoming about how you deal during long-distance runs to your fellow #MotherRunner, and that’s when we thought a follow-up post could be even more helpful. While we plan to offer advice and insight on the topic, we could not HELP but post this piece from Role Mother (and marathoner) Melissa. Check back on Tuesday, 6/27, for part two of the TMI/periods post, full of options and tips.
I’ve been one of the many unfortunate mother runners out there to run a marathon on my period. It was my 7th marathon, and when I realized the month before that the stars, tides, and menstrual moons were inevitably going to collide and Aunt Flo was going to be visiting uninvited on race day, I prepared for the worst but wished for the best. I got the worst, but we’ll get to that in a sec. Did I mention it was my first Goofy Challenge? Yep. So, a half on Saturday and a full on Sunday.
The morning of the half I started bleeding, which didn’t cause panic, as I knew things would be “light,” and I’d be done in about 2.5 hours. The next day however, was an entirely different story. Because DAY TWO people. If you haven’t had the pleasure of listening to what is probably my favorite AMR podcast ever, the one where Bethany Meyer gives her Boston Marathon recap, then you need to. Like NOW. Because ladies, she throws down the day two truth tampon like nobody’s business. I’ll just say this, when she spoke the words “I gave birth to a tampon in the port-a-potty,” I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and thought to myself, “So that IS a thing! I know because it happened to me!”
The morning of the full I did my best to remain confidant, calm, and trust that the good folks at Playtex at some point in tampon development had put a woman wearing one on a treadmill for five hours before they labeled anything leak free or Super Plus. Spoiler alert: THEY DIDN’T.
Before I stepped into my corral, I made one last pit stop to get things in order, stuffed two extra tampons in my sports bra, said a prayer to the period Gods, and began my journey to the Magic Kingdom.
At about mile 8, I popped into another port-a-potty and switched things, relieved to find the lining of my running shorts were crimson free.
And then Shark Week happened.
In my pants.
It was as if my uterus woke up from a deep slumber and shouted “All of this lining needs to go ASAP, and all at one time. Go!”
It was a wickedly warm day, with temps in the upper 70s and humidity easily hovering around 90%. I was dripping with sweat, salty and soaked from head to toe. I began to feel chafing on my inner things, which is not uncommon for me, so I stopped at the next medical tent for some Vaseline. It was around mile 18. I was wearing a handmade tu-tu over my running shorts, and when I lifted up the front to apply lubrication to my raw skin, I saw the carnage. My shorts were not soaked with sweat. They were soaked front and back with blood, which had run all the way down my inner thighs to my knees.
I panicked. I knew this course well, and I knew I needed a real bathroom to clean up the red tide between my legs. And by real bathroom I mean running water, paper towels, and good lighting were an absolute necessity at this point. My course memory told me the nearest one was a good 4-5 miles ahead, at the exit of Hollywood Studios.
I trucked, or bled, along with my head down, trying to not bring attention to myself (or my thighs,) from the hundreds of tourists who lined the streets of Hollywood Studios. As I approached the bathroom, I did some running math in my head, and told myself I was still making good time and to keep this custodial pit stop to under two minutes.
I emerged from the bathroom 15 minutes later.
Race minutes are like dog years, so 15 minutes to a runner is like three hours.
I won’t go into detail what I saw in there, or what I had to clean up, wipe down, rinse off, and considered just throwing in the trash, but let’s just say a crime-scene blood-splatter expert would have winced.
But something else happened in there, something that I didn’t expect. In the course of 15 minutes I went from feeling completely defeated, from cursing my body and its fluids, the lunar calendar, strings that are anything but extra absorbent, paper towels that feel like sand paper, cheap toilet tissue, and all of femininity, to feeling like something else entirely…
A TOTAL FREAKIN’ BADASS.
If I could have ran out of there with a big letter “P” on my shirt, I think I would have.
You see, right before I left the bathroom, I stopped to take a look at myself in the mirror. The face looking back at me was anything but defeated. She was strong. Period. (See what I did there?)
When I came across the finish line, I felt I could be the new spokeswoman for all the menstrual marathoners out there. I thought “Holy red river rising if I can do THAT, what can’t I do?”
When my husband greeted me a few seconds later, he asked “Sooooo….how was it? You finished strong!”
My answer, “Piece of cake. Hey, is there a beach towel in the car?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s that one I got for donating blood last month.”
Period Gods. You sure have a sense of humor.
*Update. I have recently jumped on the menstrual cup band wagon, and so far so good. I have yet to try to run long distances on a “day two” with the cup, but from what I hear it is a game changer.
Tell us: Have any tales of period vs. run? We’re all ears!
Mother Runner SBS Training for a Fast 10K
Despite it being surprisingly chilly (the mid-50s) for mid-June here in Portland, my BRF, Molly, and I have sweat flying off our foreheads as we rip off the second of eight strides. We’ve already covered six miles this Friday morning, at a leisurely pace that allowed our conversation to range from the adorably charming characters in Me Before You (I’d seen it the night before) to her family’s recent stand-up paddleboard adventure. We sprint roughly 100 yards from one stop sign to “the back of that green SUV” or “that port-a-potty.” Not exactly racing, but not not racing, either.
Less than 20 steps into our third stride, a fluid feeling of energy floods my core and pours into my legs; without conscious intent, I surge forward. We slow as we reach a parked pick-up truck, and Molly says with ever-so-slight awe, “You have gotten a lot faster, Sarah.” We laugh as we catch our breath before starting another stride.
I hope Molly is right: Next month, I’m racing a 10K for the first time in seven years. My coach, Bri, subtly planted the idea after I completed the Boston Marathon, saying I had developed more speed in my legs than I knew and I should test it at a 5K or 10K. Not wanting to ricochet from one end of the distance spectrum (26.2) to the other (5K), I landed on a 10K. I chose the Twilight race in neighboring Vancouver, Wash., after another mother runner informed me every participant gets a burrito and two (2!) beers at the party after the 6:15 p.m. race. (All organic, natch, since this is PacNW.)
So after recovering from the marathon while maintaining enough of a base to accompany a friend on a 20-mile training run, I switch to honing and polishing speed. Last Wednesday, for instance, I warmed up for 15 minutes, then alternated one minute of building to good turnover with one minute easy. For the main set of the workout, I did 4 x (2:40 at 8:00-8:15 pace, 2:20 easy), then 2 x (2:40 sub-8:00 pace, 2:20 easy). Trotted 15 minutes home.
I mentally chunked up the workout, taking each 2:40 piece as it came my way. I repeated my this-new-training-cycle mantra, “fast feet!” and leaned forward from the hips to get some help from gravity. Magically, the two faster segments felt easier and freer than the 8:00-8:15 ones. I felt truly euphoric as I went through the de rigueur dynamic flexibility drills post-run.
Looking back over the last week of training for a fast 10K, I realize something had shifted, and I’d found a sixth gear. The gear I slipped into during those strides with Molly. I hope I can rev my engine the same way on July 9 at the evening 10K. I’ll be gunning to maintain an 8:00 pace over the course of 6.2 miles. Slower than my 10K PR (47:37) of seven years ago, but for a 50-year-old broad coming off a 4x-fractured ankle, I’m beaming with pride and optimism.
If you want to run the Twilight race–either the half-marathon, 10K, or 5K–you can save $5 by using code amr616 when you register.