You don’t come here to listen to me talk about running. Or triathlon training. Here is not the place for me to do some deep thinking and journaling about how I am going to get enough swim workouts done and also get a new tattoo this winter. It just isn’t.
Writing. Write what you know. A million people smarter than me have told me that before. Blogging? It’s not much different. I suppose the only difference is that because you get live, human feedback you get to know your audience. And I don’t think you guys want to listen to me talk about running and endurance training and the relative merits of Shot Bloks vs G1, Gatorade’s energy chews.
You want me to show you pictures ofmy ass in mom jeans, my stretchmarks and my boob milk stains.
Guys. Today I need to talk about running. And there won’t be a picture.
I ran twelve miles today. Twelve. I have never run that far in my whole entire life. I have also never shit on the side of the road. And I did that, too. Oh. Did you miss that? Was I not clear? I pooped. Outside. In the middle of running. I ran about six and a half miles and realized I was not going to make it five and a half more. I wasn’t even going to make it the half mile to the coffee shop in town. I scanned the immediate area and I POOPED OUTSIDE. Two yards from the sidewalk. It was an emergency.
And then I kept running. And before you get all up on your “I have never, ever shit near a sidewalk” high horse let me tell you that I had baby wipes. Two of them. In a ziplock bag. Because (and here is where I consider if this is crossing a line to tell what my regular poop schedule looks like and realize there is no line, the line has been obliterated) I have not pooped in two days and I am an every other day pooper and I knew it could ugly and I thought being prepared would prevent it from happening. Wrong.
So, after doing my business and with two used baby wipes in a ziplock bag I ran off towards the closest trash can. Because while I will (apparently) poop in what is technically a person’s yard I will not litter.
I ran and ran. I changed musical playlists. I had this twelve mile run in the bag! Not unlike a dirty baby wipe. And I ate a few more energy chews and I ran some more and then…. then my stomach started to clench and I started to feel nauseous and I realized I had crossed in to new territory. I was now a person that shit on the side of the road. There was no reason to contemplate trying to run three, almost four, more miles with my ass cheeks clenched. AND I DID IT AGAIN. I made it in to the woods. Should that make me feel better?
And I kept running again.
I am not sure what the takeaway is here. I am a person that is just about ready to run a half-marathon. That’s exciting. I am also a person that pooped. On the run. I think that makes me a runner? It might even make me a long distance runner? Because this is a thing – other people have done this. Really. I’m not trying to go all Billy Madison on you and tell you that “it’s cool.” But I am not alone. And that’s comforting.
So. Yeah. I’ve been quiet. Because all I think about lately is training and which race should I sign up for and what am I going to do now that I own the last pair of hot pink New Balance 870v2 in a ladies size 10.5???
So, I told you a poop story so you wouldn’t leave me. But I really can’t figure out how to get the carbohydrates in without making the poop come out. Runners, can you help me? Will my body eventually be able to tolerate a long run without revolting against me? This morning I told MQD that maybe I need to try a different kind of “evacuation blocks.” He looked at me sideways. “I mean energy blocks, but yeah…” I can’t seem to not feel totally thrashed after about an hour and a half without a little something.
Trial and error is the answer, I suppose. And route my runs closer to a bathroom, huh? We live and learn in this life. And this morning I ran twelve miles, pooped outside twice, lost my car key and locked myself out of my house. That’s a whole lot of living.
I can’t do it. A post without a picture seems wrong. Here I am. In the bathroom at the gym. Why? Because Karen at Uncomfortably Honest and Honestly Uncomfortable takes adorable post-run pics in the bathroom at her gym and I wanted to test her theory about lighting. She also tells a mean poop story in case that’s your thing.
Happy Sunday, guys!
Excitement on the side 