Man, you guys love to talk some poop. I adore that about you. Each and every 47 of you who left a turd related comment.
In real life, I love how everyone shies away from the subject.
"Oh, that Beth," you croon. "She is so crude. Oh, excuse me for a moment while I use the ladies' room," you say to your girlfriends while sipping mimosas and eating crust less cucumber sandwiches. You gingerly walk into the door labeled "women," crouch down to see if there are any telltale feet under the stalls, and finding that it is all clear, you sit down and oh-so-ladylike on the white porcelain and let a big, fat one rip. The rip is followed by the turd the size of Detroit (although it may smell better). You take your time cleaning up, wash your hands, fluff your hair and head back to the luncheon, making no mention of the friend you left behind.
I think one of the reasons I'm so open about the poop/fart factor is that I've had a number of experiences that have left me with absolutely no shame in this department. My brother, who is three years older, has told me for as long as I can remember that when I was 18 months he came in one day during my nap and found me "rolling around with my poop in the crib." He told me this pretty much every week of my life. My question: what the hell was he doing in my room during my nap?? Can't a girl get some privacy?
It used to seem so disgusting, that someone, even a baby would do such a thing. Big brother made me feel like a freak for doing it. What I came to understand, however, is that once you have kids it is a free for all. Kids do the worst things, especially in their cribs. They take off diapers, smear things, eat things, smell things, make castles with things. So big eff'ing deal that I rolled around with some poop. A friend of mine has a daughter who at the age of two took off her diaper while napping. My friend went in and noticed her daughter was eating something. Turns out she had found a piece of corn. Yep, we all know that particular vegetable doesn't digest well.
So, if my older brother is reading this: You gave me a complex for no good reason at all. Manhandling poop when you're a toddler is commonplace. I think you were the weirdo for not doing it. And I won't even tell everyone about the time you told your health teacher you were getting breasts.
(See - I hard runner's legs even back then. My eyes are closed because I'm obviously re-living the time in my crib with my friend, poop)
This was just the tip of my poop iceberg. I have had several public moments of embarrassment around this subject that I would like to share with you, but that's for another day.
Yeah, you're right. This post has nothing to do with running. We talk too much about running anyway. Just like we take rest days from running, we take rest days from blogging about running. Although if you really think about it, running and pooping go hand in hand. So, I take that back. This post has everything to do with running.