Have you seen the hilarious movie “Bridesmaids?” There’s a particularly infamous scene involving a sketchy Brazilian steakhouse (if you have a strong stomach, check out the clip here). Well, I had my “Bridesmaids” moment this month.
I've signed up for a race every month this year, and 3 (YES 3) half-marathons. So my butt needed to get in gear. I needed to get some junk out of the trunk and get my wind back. For the last couple weeks during Christmas break I started running, trotting, jogging—basically getting back on track.
My kids and husband were sick most of Christmas vacation. So it was just me and my dogs out on the trails evenings and early mornings.
Yesterday I had washed the last sheet and towel from the stomach virus that all the boys of the house were plagued with. I took a little antacid because my tummy was feeling a little sour all day but I couldn't miss my run. I was getting my groove back and really had cabin fever so nothing was keeping me from blazing the trails of Mission Viejo that night.
First mile: Awesome music, my dogs are happy, and I’m running at a faster pace than I had in a long time. Then the tummy starts rumbling.
I am at this "crossroads." Do I stop and walk? Yes! I’m clenching my butt cheeks together with all I’ve got, I'm now two miles from home IN THE DARK. I can't go into the bushes and squat because of the real threat of a coyote, bobcat or raccoon coming out at me. So I call my husband to come pick me up. He doesn’t’ answer.
So on I forge down the streets of Mission Viejo to get myself home.
Clenching and wincing and trotting home, I'm trying to make it without the wedding dress in the street scene from "Bridesmaid" becoming a reality in my world.
So I am only about a half mile from home, and my stride is exactly like Lillian's in the scene where she is trying to get away from the bridal store. Oy to the vey! I couldn't hold it any longer, and started laughing because the only thing in my head was the scene from Bridesmaid where the Megan character is screaming "It's coming out of me like lava."
The explosive diarrhea that sickened my kids for several days was now passed onto mommy while she was trying to run to be healthy and care for the little dudes. So yes, I’m three blocks from my house and out the poop came—I couldn't keep it in. I did poop my pants, and as I stood in shock all alone on the street in the dark and the cold, I couldn't stop laughing like a mental patient. At least no one was with me. At least I was wearing an old pair of running pants and not my brand new Under Armour, and thankfully I chose to wear black!
On the side of my house I did the surfer strip-down. I got my clothes off, hosed myself and my clothes off, threw the old pants away and headed into the house half-naked and carrying a jug of Clorox
Husband: "What the hell are you doing?"
Me: "Don't worry about it."
I locked myself in the bathroom and finished the cleanup!
Lesson learned. Run on the treadmill at home when you have a tummy ache! These are the things that running is teaching me. While I was humiliated and embarrassed and still can't believe that as a 44-year-old mother I crapped my pants in public, I did get those three miles added to my pile. Yes, I am a mother runner. I survived cancer. A little poop, while embarrassing and much more funny than cancer, well, I'll get over that too. :)