When Ya Gotta Go...

Warning: This is not one of my touchy-feely posts. In fact, it probably won't get much grosser than this.

Tune out now if you can't handle a little "dirty" humor.  And I mean yucky, not sexy.  Just to be clear.

Mom, I'm looking at you.

I never thought this would happen to me.  Before every race or even any training session, I get my bathroom breaks out of the way.  My innards "know" it's time to...ahem...release before I start training for an extended period.  This afternoon, at the weekly LA Tri Club Griffith Park brick, I got faked out by my digestive organs.

I'm sharing this because I think it's happened to all of us at some point.  Whether it's in a race or just practice...when ya gotta go...ya gotta go!  Usually we hope there's a port-o-potty nearby.  Sometimes, like during a trail run, there's just not.

The bike portion of the brick was just fine -- outside of what felt like a swirling headwind that kept our progress up Mt. Hollywood slow and steady.  It was the run that felt like it gave me the runs.

First off, it's a good thing I was running alone today.  (I had to leave early to attend a party with Steph's friends, which turned out to be a lot of fun.) Midway through the run, it was clear something wasn't agreeing with my stomach.  While my pace didn't really slow, let's just say I was re-enacting that famous scene from "Blazing Saddles" where everyone around the campfire is having a toot-fest.  Except I was alone, which meant I could kind of giggle a bit to myself. Jet power!  Because let's face it, no matter how old you are, farts are funny. They just are.  C'mon, you know it's true.

But what's less than funny is realizing that the next toot might not be so innocent.  And nobody wants to relive the movie scene from "Along Came Polly" with Phillip Seymour Hoffman realizing he just "sharted."  I don't think that word needs any explanation, by the way.

So, I had to find a quiet place to, well, uh, you know...poop.

Hey, everybody poops...sometime.

There are few things quite as embarrassing or demeaning than copping a squat in nature but feeling like the whole world is watching.  Whether they are or not doesn't matter, it's just that feeling of knowing you A) look pathetic B) couldn't hold it and C) don't have a magazine to read.

After covering up my creation, I continued my run issue-free. Yes, I felt a little lighter.  And if you know me really well, then you also know I may have had a bit of a guilty-silly grin the rest of the run.

Just don't tell anyone, OK?

Always a new adventure to be had in this sport, right?  This was the first time since junior high school a situation like this occurred.  I kinda hope its the last.

Now, I've got to be up in about six hours to jump in the pool.  Hopefully, issue-free there too. Good night!

175 days and counting.