When running on the busy Chicago lakefront, be prepared for closed restroom facilities. Be prepared to run far and fast, because you are running on a thin strip of grass between Lake Michigan and Lake Shore Drive, and there are only bridges every mile or so for runners to access the more frequent restrooms on the non-lake side of the highway.
Be prepared to imagine your buttcheeks clenched so tight that you couldn’t sneak a well-lubricated Q-tip™ up there. Be prepared to accept that five minutes of such clenching while running is the equivalent of those little machines that scramble eggs inside the shell: your intestinal blender is set on purée.
When you finally give up and are reduced to hiding behind a clump of unmowed waist-high grass so that you can be seen neither by the people fifty yards away with the Frolicking and Curious English sheepdogs nor the heavy traffic on the road, be educated about the physics of nice flat rocks:
- they won’t scratch your exposed and sweaty ass
- they allow you to squat very low to the ground
- they have a far greater splash factor than grass
Next time:
- you will wish to store a handkerchief in your pocket
- you will wish to wear older, less white running shoes
- you will wish to make your exit with haste, for Frolicking and Curious English Sheepdogs are expert at locating fresh purée
- you will wish to remove your headphones while squatting so that you can hear the approach of strangers over the blare of C+C Music Factory
Be forewarned that being caught sniffing your fingers quizzically while sprinting from a clump of unmowed grass makes you look suspicious to dog owners and runners.
Be pleased with yourself for sporting compression shorts that are too tight to suffer crack contamination.
Collected Poop Stories 