A Running Horror Story

WARNING: This material that you are about to read is hilarious and disgusting. If you do NOT like poop talk or are a bit squeamish I would advice to stop reading now.



I thought I would launch off the first week of Autumn with a horror story. Muuuahahhaa

 I am 11 weeks out from my first full marathon, and training is beginning to really pick up. I put off my long weekend run until Sunday evening- 9 miles. I generally run in the morning but better late than never.

I ate dinner roughly around 5:00 p.m., then I went and sat down with a "little" ice-cream cone. It was a delish cookies and cream on a waffle cone. Not a big deal. I put on my running clothes and sat on the couch to "settle my belly" until 6:30 p.m.

OHHHH DAT ICECREAM

These aren't my pics but exactly what I ate.

Spicy Chicken Stew

I don't recommend any of what I ate before you run. Ever short or long run. Don't do it.

I was dragging my feet out the door. The first 5.5 miles were just average. I wasn't going to win a award or anything I was hitting about a 12 min pace. I consider that good since I spent the whole morning at the beach with the fam bam.

Mile 6: I spotted my pal Jenise outside of her house. I began yelling out her name and asking for water. I stopped and talked for a few mins and briefly mentioned that I felt like I needed to poo- no biggie... right? I drank her ice cold water and headed back on my merry way. Only 3 miles to go. I felt pretty good I was jammin to my music and just strolling along.

Mile 7: I started getting a rumble, and I was scared. I knew there were 0 bathrooms on the way back. I HAD TO MAKE IT HOME. I clenched my  cheeks and pushed on.

Mile 8: The voice in my head- No biggie. Just a mile left, mostly up hill but still just a mile.  I will not shit my self. I repeat WILL NOT drop a stinky bomb in my nike shorts.

Mile 8.7: I slow down to a slow walk. My stomach was in such distress it was making me feel hotter. I am sure even if I wasn't running I would be sweating at this point from how much work it was just to keep it in.

Mile 8.94: I finally reached my house, I was so close to hitting the 9 mile mark but I needed to stop. I HAD TO STOP. I ran up to my house to open the front door.

LOCKED.

 I grab out my phone while walking to the back and called the husband. To my disappointment it went STRAIGHT to Voicemail. (You have got to be kidding me, what if I was being murdered?!) Then I tried out the back door. BIG SURPRISE. LOCKED

I OFFICIALLY ENTERED PANIC MODE and start banging on the windows and door.

Ohhhhh. Dear LORD please have mercy on me.

DISASTER STRIKES

I shamefully pulled down my pants and braced my self with the fence and just let it go.

It can't get any worse than this. Right?

Wrong. I was in the eye of the storm.

The porch light turns on and my husband is peering at me through the kitchen window. I was like a monkey in the zoo. I could have just died from the embarrassment.

He actually asked me what I was doing. I am not sure if it was a serious question because you could smell me from a mile away. Between the sweat, stench, tears and shame I managed to yell out some profanities and my favorite:"Luke you're a dead man."

Ohhh what the neighbors must think of us. Sorry neighbors. It was an emergency.

I managed to gather my self and go in side to clean up and apologize. We agreed upon a couple of things.

1. I shall never again eat spicy chicken stew with a ice-cream cone before I run.
2. He will never again lock me out on a long run.

I feel like this was a great learning experience for me and hope it never happens again. Ever again. I also hope that it helps other people make better food choices before a run.

If you have any funny or embarrassing stories I would love to here them in the comments below.