Carefree as a Dog

Running essentials, Shit Kit included.

I will never forget the first time my bowels got the best of me during a run. I can still feel the panic. It was sophomore year of college and I was crushing a 10 miler one day after class. Middlebride Road, along the Narrow River, at the halfway point of my run. The scenario played out just as every runner dreads. No shortcut home. No public restroom nearby. It came suddenly and left me with little choice.

I quickly scanned the scene. There were too many homes and not enough cover. I thought about knocking on someone's door.

Skeptical home owner: "Can I help you?"

Me, soaked in sweat, out of breath: "Let me use your toilet, please!"
Home owner: "No. 2?"
Me, head down: "Yes."
Home owner: "Not a chance, buddy."

OK. Not gonna go there. Time was running out. With each step, my situation became more dire. "Shit!," I thought. And that's exactly what I did. Instinct took over. Behind some trees, just a few feet from the street, I took care of business. Relief!

I finished the run, minus a sock, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if I had been caught in the act. I was part ashamed and part worried I would be arrested for public defecation. But nothing happened, no consequences. Crisis averted.

Little did I know this scene would become a regular part of my life as a runner. My stomach is volatile. Certain foods + high mileage = disaster. Milk before a run? Bad choice, indeed, Ron Burgandy. Anything greasy? Too much sugar? Poop!

Several years and too many such experiences and I evolved. When in doubt, leave the house prepared. A plastic baggy and some toilet paper and you've got, as a former roommate informed me, a Shit Kit. Like a toilet in a Ziplock. It might not provide privacy or the comfort of your home bowl, but at least you can unload, clean up and move on.

Now, as a veteran Pooper on the Run, I usually anticipate when a storm is brewing in my stomach. I know where the restrooms are located. I adjust the route accordingly. Or I stop, squat behind a bush and call upon my Shit Kit to bail me out of a potentially messy situation. No more inhibitions. I'm as carefree as a dog.