Wednesday, October 6, 2010

My friends Tigger and ...

A quick update on my health: I don't know much. I have had scopes crammed down and through every place on my body. I have had enough radiation from x-rays and scans to give me cancer, and enough blood drawn to feed Dracula for month. And the end result is they can't find anything wrong with me. Yet, I continue to have the "attacks" that sent me to the doctor's in the first place. My doctor is leaning to a diagnosis of IBS, yet both he and I are uncomfortable with that diagnosis for a couple of reasons. First, the suddenness of the onset (it basically started one day in August), and second, the acuteness of the attacks (they are quick to come on and sometimes severe enough to send me to the ER). So while I wait for some radiology results about a possible swollen spleen (neither he nor I are real worried about this, it is probably a result of all the testing), the doctor and I agreed that a second opinion was needed, but it seems that I can't get in to see the second doctor until Dec. 16, and lord only knows how long of a process that will be after more consultation, more testing, and more results and diagnosis. Honestly, I am kind of tired about talking about it. So I thought I would write a post of a lighter nature.

So during all of my health concerns I have not worked out much; maybe walking on the treadmill every so often. After some exhausting and fruitless weeks with the doctors, I decided to start working out last week. I have been taking it easy, running only a 2 to 2.5 miles at a time, and dropping the weight on my strength workouts. And it has gone pretty well. I lost all the weight I gained with not working out (209 lbs. this morning; it is weigh-in Wednesday). And it feels good to be out trying to do normal things again. Now for the funny part...

(Warning: if you are sensitive details of bodily functions, read no further and take second to think about if you take things a little too seriously)

I was out for my morning run at 5am on Tuesday. It was dark and cold out. The morning was very quiet; I could hear the hum of the street lights. I had just finished my first mile (8:10, not bad) and was turning back north on Buchanan, when suddenly I heard it...nature was calling, and it was an emergency!

Just to give you a little history, in a former life I was as regular as the mail. In the past typically, I would spend 5-10 minutes in the morning relieving myself of any discomfort before heading out for a run or workout. Occasionally, I would be surprised by a second bout of discomfort while I was out on a run, but that always occurred quickly, and I am fortunate enough to have a Hardee's open at 5am within the first half-mile of my run. I can stop in there real quick and the good thing is the bathrooms are in the foyer, so I do not have to really enter the building to use their facilities. Now, some people think that it is disrespectful to use the bathroom of a retail establishment without buying something from said establishment. I, however, do not subscribe to this particular moral. But I digress...a drawback to my current health situation is a lack of regularity. It's not that I am constipated all the time, though that is the case occasionally. The real problem is that I never know when I am going to have to go, and sometimes the urge to go comes on very quickly. The other day I was walking into work (I have to park some 10 blocks away from my building) and the urge cam on so fast and so feverishly that I had to run into one the building that I pass by and use their restroom. Other times I feel like it takes a few hours for my bowels to really wake up, then when they out!

So anyway, I woke up this past Tuesday morning, went through my normal routine of getting dressed, turning on Sportscenter, stretching, and making an attempt to cleanse my colon. Nothing doin'. I tried and tried, but nothing was to come. I figured everything was cool and I could hit the road running. The thought did cross my mind that the situation could get dyer, especially as I passed Hardee's in the first half-mile and still didn't have to go. And then it hit me, just like I said at the top of the story. The onset of this urge was quick and the desire to relieve myself was growing vigorously. I immediately planned the quickest route to Hardee's in my head (down Buchanan, left on Livingston, across the post office parking lot and I am there). But the urge kept rising. I am not sure if you all know this, but it is very difficult to run with your butt cheeks clinched like a vice. However, the thought of not running and taking longer to get to my goal was excruciating. It is sad to admit, but the thought of stopping and pooping in some one's yard crossed my mind more than once. It was sheer willpower and the thought of having to move from town if I was caught (I hate moving, it is my least favorite thing next to classical music performances) that kept me going.

Finally, I could see it; the door of Hardee's was near. As I reached the door, I grabbed the handle...the urge surging up deep inside of me...I pulled was LOCKED!

Just kidding! It was open. I did my business, did not buy anything (don't worry moralists, I spend plenty of money at Hardee's, just not while I am running), and finished my run. The end is lacking in excitement, but I am telling you the build up was palpable. Easily the most exciting 5-7 minutes of my week so far.


  1. Perfect timing for this story. There's an article on about sports and pooping.

  2. That is hilarious! I had heard stories of marathoners and triathletes, but the football one I had never thought of. Not surprising. I do remember being a kid and sledding down a hill in the snow, when my sled hit a deep tire rut and almost pooped my pants from the force.