It's Friday. So you all know what that means.
It means my stomach is twirled up inside of itself like tomorrow is, oh, I dunno, my wedding day, or the day I sit for the bar exam, or perform my first brain surgery.
What tomorrow really holds, of course, is nothing more than a short eight-mile run, after last Saturday's 16-miler, and per usual (god I love italics), I'm a total, nervous wreck about it (see above similes).
But 'nuff said about that, because I've run out of ways to describe freaking out.
So I thought I'd introduce a new topic: All About Poop.
The problem: Wake up early Saturday morning, jump around, eat a little something, drink lots of water (not a big coffee drinker these days), and um, that little business doesn't seem to want to happen.
Until I'm in the car, oh, 15 minutes from the running site.
Until I get to the running site. By which time it has gone away.
But where I then have to force myself to go to the nearby Safeway, where they let us use the single grody bathroom.
Where I know there are 10 people waiting in line for said bathroom.
And where, knowing that 10 people are waiting, peristalsis knows it too, and just stops dead.
So nothing happens.
Until about 10 minutes into the run when all of a sudden ... well, you don't want me to paint you a picture, do you? The hunt is on for a porta-pottie.
Last week I successfully forestalled this problem by following mom's advice and eating lots and lots of roughage! And it worked!
Today I am trying for a repeat performance: veggie sub for lunch, brown rice and veggies for dinner, eighteen gallons of water, (and, oh yeah, a mars bar after lunch, but only because I was stuck in a dark training room with someone babbling on and on about CSS, and it was right there free for the eating), plus about eight oatmeal cookies after dinner.
(This from the girl who gave up sugar. But I digress.)
If that ain't enough roughage, I don't know what is.
Point being, I am doing everything I can do except standing on my head (which would no doubt make it even more difficult) to make this thing happen before tomorrow's run. Because, people, I am on a Schedule, and this thing is just not cooperating.
So I thought I'd shed a little light on the subject, bring it out into the open, so to speak, where it can be faced and conquered.
After all, if Michael Stipe can sing about it, why can't I write about it?