26.2 is a long way. I am fully confident I can cover that distance on March 17th at the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach without too much trouble. I have put in the time and hard work. It won’t be a problem.
What happens if …
… you know …
… nature calls?
I’m not talking about “Uh oh. I think I have to pee.” I’m talking about “Oh sweet baby Jesus, I think my guts are going to explode!” type of pain. What do I do? There will be port-a-pots along the course, I am sure, but I get skeeved out by public restrooms, let alone phone booth size cesspools.
Admit it, you’ve wondered the same. Right?
I plan on eating smart. Nothing that will obviously cause stomach issues – no hot wings, burritos, or chili dogs. But it still scares me. I haven’t had any surprises on my training runs. Get it … runs … oh boy.
I don’t want to lose time because doodie calls.
And I don’t want to be immortalized as “poop runner”. Google it. I don’t want to be that guy. While I admire his dedication, the dude is forever a part of the interwebs hall of shame.
I plan on giving my all and leaving it all on the race course. But I don’t want to literally leave it on the course … gross.
I am sure it will all work out in the end.