Accidents Happen

** Disclaimer: If you're eating, don't like the word "poop" or would prefer to be one of those people who thinks young ladies don't do #2, don't read this post.**

Every year I watch people run the Boston Marathon and think, "I'm going to do that one day." Year after year though, I was always a spectator, cheering people on, drinking beer on the sidelines and watching runners cross the 20 mile marker. Almost every year, as well, I would inevitably see one or two people who would look like they had sat in mud. They were disoriented, swaying while running and it was then that I realized these people had actually crapped their pants. Ew. Ew. Ew. Seriously!? Unless you're fighting to win the actual marathon, why the hell would these people allow themselves to shit their pants?!

I no longer wonder why these people poop their pants. No, no, don't worry... I didn't have an "accident" in my pants. But, holy crap (haha, pun intended), I now understand how it can happen. Yesterday, I started off on what would be a 17 mile run. I felt really good, I was hydrated, I had a good play list and I was ready to grab the bull by the horns and do this run. The 1st ten to thirteen miles were great. I matched the same improved 1/2 marathon time, I felt good, I wasn't tired, I saw running group after running group which inspired me to keep up with people who were a bit faster then me and I was enjoying the cool (but not bitter) winter weather. After about mile 14 though, it hit me. I don't know if it was the portabella mushroom pizza I had eaten the night before or my lack of bathroom activity the morning of my run, but holy smokes, I needed a toilet. I told myself I could make it the last 3 miles but, I know my body. I knew I HAD to go to the bathroom. However, my last leg of this run was by the Charles River. Shockingly, there are NO toilets on this route. I contemplated not once, not twice but THREE times squatting in a bush along the Charles and dropping a deuce. There are just cars, people, squirrels, boats...everything!...out there. I couldn't imagine doing that in public (and/or getting caught) so I sucked it up (and in) and continued on the run. I knew I would come to the mall sooner then later and I prayed to God I would make it. I was in pain. I was shivering, I felt nauseous and my stomach was punishing me. To make matters worse, at about mile 15.5, I got this shooting pain in my right ankle/shin and was now limping, trying not to cry (really, I'm usualy pretty tough) and begging for this run to be over RIGHT THIS INSTANT. I finally made it to a Finagle a Bagel (the end of my run) and ran into the coffee shop and sprinted to the bathroom. Of course, it was locked. I ran back and said (very loudly so all the patrons could hear me), "I neeeeed the key!!!!!' Has anyone ever seen the movie Dumb and Dumber when Harry uses homechick's bathroom? Yup, that was me. But at least this toilet actually flushed.

I apologize if this post has been TMI (too much information) or I have embarrassed or offended my boyfriend or my parents. But marathon training is not all happiness, giggles and repeats of Rocky's theme song. This is part of the "bad and ugly." This is reality. I hope everyone has a nice, long weekend. I'm peacing out to go make heart cupcakes and ice my shin. If anyone has some advice for an injury such as this, please share. Adios amigos!