Deuces Wild

Dudes, don’t be afraid of Porta-Pottys on the race course. They are there for a reason and they are your friend. Funny story: I almost always drop a deuce before morning races, the bigger the race, the more powerful my rectal output. The last time I ran the Philly Half, I had to take a massive dump. Long line, finally get into a Porta, see there’s no toilet paper, bang! goes the starting gun. “To hell with it,” methinks, “I can’t run holding this.” So I take a huge, messy dump with zero wipe-age, pull up my drawers, then I’m off to the races.

It was itchy for the first few miles, but then the discomfort went away. That’s one of the great things about long runs: you’re out there for so long that little things that might pop up and bother you (something in your pocket banging against your thigh, a twinge in the knee/shin/heel, etc.) sometimes work themselves out and go away.

So, I finish Philly, had my best half time up to that point, get my medal, walk to another Porta to finally wipe up, and . . . nothing. there’s nothing there, like I never even pooped. and my shorts were soaked with sweat, but not much else. All I can surmise is that through my mega-sweating, the saltwater sizzle overtook the fecal matter, picking it up and then depositing it all over Philly’s roads as the sweat itself ran down off my body and back into the earth.

And that’s . . . one to grow on!


Dave Barrett was co-founder of the running club at Macmillan Publishing before leaving for greener pastures, where he sometimes runs. He lives in New Jersey.