"It started off like any other bitter day in January. Dark, cold, howling wind. I knew if I bundled up and headed out for my morning run despite the weather I'd feel better because I always did. I mean, do you ever regret a workout? I'm here to tell you if you shit yourself in a public place with cars zipping by, the answer will be a resounding yes."
"But we all know once your downstairs neighbor knocks they don't turn around and go back to where they came from. I tried to pick up the pace. I was racing the clock and my colon. I tried to squeeze my cheeks together while I was running away from my problem, but alas, my runner's high was gone and I was now on a runner's hold."
"I prayed. I looked for a place where I could drop trou in the woods just off the highway and make my deposit. But you can't exactly do that in wide open spaces. And then it happened. My run slowed to a jog, and I said out loud, "Okay, I'm shitting. I'm literally shitting my pants." Just call me Forest Dump, because I was running and releasing."
A runner with six years' experience set out on a bitter January morning expecting a mood-improving workout. A pre-run bathroom visit produced no relief, so the runner began the route, noting to increase fiber. After about thirty minutes the runner felt an urgent need to defecate—Runner's Trots. Attempts to accelerate, clench, and locate woods off the highway failed. The runner prayed, searched for concealment, and ultimately involuntarily defecated while continuing to run in view of passing cars. Embarrassment replaced the prior runner's high as the runner feared visible soiling and joked about being ‘Forest Dump.’
Read at Scary Mommy
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