Tuesday, March 29, 2016

One story from a recent race . . . and of course, potty humor

Wait a sec.  Do you enjoy bathroom humor?  Whoopee cushions?  Fake vomit?  If yes, proceed.  If no, please close this window and peruse something else, because I'd hate to lose your friendship by offending you with the following story.  

I really hesitated to type up this story at all.  I think it's hilarious, and have really enjoyed sharing it face-to-face with folks, but I'm not sure how it will play in written form.  Here goes nothing.

This story comes from a recent ultramarathon I ran in the desert.  Prior to the start of the race, I went to the bathroom, but wished I could've done more.  (Runners, you all know the feeling.)  Around mile 30, I finally felt like it was time.  No one else was in sight; I had passed two male runners maybe half a mile back, so if I was going to go, I should go now.  

Just one problem: to my left, sand.  To my right, sand.  In front of and behind me: sand.  And some scraggly tumbleweeds.  So I got into squat position off the trail, next to two tumbleweeds.  That's when I pondered the next problem: what shall I use to wipe myself?  My usual trail-running toilet paper (rocks, grass, leaves, pinecones facing in the right direction) were nowhere to be seen.  I certainly couldn't use sand: can you imagine the chafing?  

As I glanced down at my hydration vest, inspiration!  It suddenly came to me that I'd been carrying around this quesadilla from an aid station for a couple hours, in the hot sun.  I didn't really want to eat it anyway, by this point.  

So.



Yes.

I used a quesadilla to wipe myself.  I then buried my business in sand, like a cat, and stood up to continue my race -- just as the two gentlemen I mentioned earlier came into view behind me.  "Whew!  Good timing!" I thought.  

Just then, an older man on horseback came into sight cresting the hill ahead of me.  He pointed to the sky behind me and commented, "Helicopter."  I didn't even bother looking back; this guy must be crazy.  What would a helicopter be doing in the middle of the desert?  Seeing my lack of comprehension, he again pointed and said, "There's a big helicopter behind you!"  In disbelief, I turned my head and saw, approaching from behind, the race director's drone, zooming around to capture footage of the race.  

I was on the course for almost 11 hours.  This was the one time I went to the bathroom, and the one time I saw the drone.  Good timing?  Or the worst timing ever?  I'm not sure what the range of a drone camera is.  If it did get footage of me with the quesadilla . . . well, that may be the next big viral video.  And if so, maybe I'll be on Good Morning America or something.  And you can all say you knew me when . . .