Forgive me while I indulge in some very lame runner’s humor. If you find these following excerpts amusing then woohoo for you! But if on the other hand you find this totally disgusting… well hmmm, just ignore this humble blogpost. I have been reading some running books and in doing so ran across a book full of running stories that had me laughing out loud. Here is parts of my favorite... it struck a chord as I can relate to some of this!
Introduction to Ingurgitation - by Bob Schwartz
“I remember many years ago approaching an aid station for the first time during a race. I’d never tried drinking on the run before, as I usually sat for my meals. I hadn’t really thought that there would be any difficulty with this undertaking. Guess again, liquid-refreshment face!
I quickly lost the handle on seven consecutive cups and just about ripped the arms off of two volunteers handing out drinks, as I incorrectly gauged my cup grab speed and strength. I soon realized that there’s more here than meets the mouth.
I finally held onto a cup and proceeded to take an unintentional and quick shower with a punch-flavored sport drink. I quickly surmised that sometimes things are more difficult than they seem. This was clearly apparent as I gazed into my paper cup and noted the solitary drop of drink that remained. I appeared to be mocking me indicating, Buddy you just spilled the rest of me over your shorts and up your nose and I’m all you got left for the next two miles. Don’t blow it.
I concluded that along with putting distance, speed, stretching, and nutrition into my training regime, I also had to leave ample time for imbibing practice. To be able to delicately grab a cup of fluid at racing speed and gracefully empty the contents into your mouth is pretty much an athletic event in and of itself.
Needless to say, it’s not the most comforting feeling at mile 20 as you try to fight off glycogen depletion and find that most of your electrolyte-replacement-drink just went into your eyes.
It always amazed me how I could move the cup’s contents quickly toward my lips and then have it often miss my face completely. The runner alongside me was never the least bit amused about having four ounces of energy drink running off his forehead, courtesy of my inability to hit the moving target otherwise known as my mouth. I figured that with practice I could get better.
“I remember many years ago approaching an aid station for the first time during a race. I’d never tried drinking on the run before, as I usually sat for my meals. I hadn’t really thought that there would be any difficulty with this undertaking. Guess again, liquid-refreshment face!
I quickly lost the handle on seven consecutive cups and just about ripped the arms off of two volunteers handing out drinks, as I incorrectly gauged my cup grab speed and strength. I soon realized that there’s more here than meets the mouth.
I finally held onto a cup and proceeded to take an unintentional and quick shower with a punch-flavored sport drink. I quickly surmised that sometimes things are more difficult than they seem. This was clearly apparent as I gazed into my paper cup and noted the solitary drop of drink that remained. I appeared to be mocking me indicating, Buddy you just spilled the rest of me over your shorts and up your nose and I’m all you got left for the next two miles. Don’t blow it.
I concluded that along with putting distance, speed, stretching, and nutrition into my training regime, I also had to leave ample time for imbibing practice. To be able to delicately grab a cup of fluid at racing speed and gracefully empty the contents into your mouth is pretty much an athletic event in and of itself.
Needless to say, it’s not the most comforting feeling at mile 20 as you try to fight off glycogen depletion and find that most of your electrolyte-replacement-drink just went into your eyes.
It always amazed me how I could move the cup’s contents quickly toward my lips and then have it often miss my face completely. The runner alongside me was never the least bit amused about having four ounces of energy drink running off his forehead, courtesy of my inability to hit the moving target otherwise known as my mouth. I figured that with practice I could get better.
My neighbors undoubtedly questioned my family’s sanity as I strategically positioned my wife and young children in the driveway, all holding paper cups for me as I ran back and forth and back and forth. I could only hope that others believed we were engaged in some type of high-tech research experiment. Perhaps testing the body’s ability to rapidly assimilate different levels of complex versus simple carbohydrates, and the yo-yo effect of blood sugars. But I am sure they were thinking dodo and not yo-yo. I eventually discovered that the key was to squeeze the top of the cup in half, pour it into the mouth as quickly as possible, hold it there, get my bearings, straighten up the esophagus, and then give it a quick, hard swallow. Thankfully, I improved, with due diligence and late-night cup-training sessions with my family in the basement. I just know that, with my luck, once I truly perfect the art of aid station drink consumption, they’re going to go to sippy cups. But I guess you can’t stand in the way of imbibing progress."
I must say I understand this poor runner's predicament, but I have dealt with this "problem" is rather different. Instead of being graceful about it I just pour the liquid all over my face and whatever ends up in my mouth is... what ends up in my mouth. Yes I probably don't consume as much liquid as was intended, but to remedy that I have learned to grab 2 cups from those volunteers!!! Its great!! And in the end, you are wet and sticky, but its all good!
