I Shit My Pants On A Run And You Might Too

I’d been running for quite some time (six years to be exact) when something happened that changed the way I feel about myself.

It started off like any other bitter day in January. Dark, cold, howling wind. I knew if I bundled up and headed out for my morning run despite the weather I’d feel better because I always did. I mean, do you ever regret a workout?

I’m here to tell you if you shit yourself in a public place with cars zipping by, the answer will be a resounding yes.

Pre-run, I sat on the toilet and begged my bowels to move in the same way they did every other morning, but then I gave up and figured I was just constipated. It happens, right?

So I pulled on my beanie and made a mental note to get more fiber as I drove to my favorite running route.

All was well for the first half hour or so, but then nature pinged me with a push notification. My body whispered, “It’s go time,” and I tried to argue. I’ve heard horror stories about this before from other runners. It’s called the Runner’s Trots (or Shits, if you’re nasty), and apparently, it happens to the best of us. And today was my day.

But we all know once your downstairs neighbor knocks they don’t turn around and go back to where they came from.

I tried to pick up the pace. I was racing the clock and my colon. I tried to squeeze my cheeks together while I was running away from my problem, but alas, my runner’s high was gone and I was now on a runner’s hold.

I prayed. I looked for a place where I could drop trou in the woods just off the highway and make my deposit. But you can’t exactly do that in wide open spaces.

And then it happened. My run slowed to a jog, and I said out loud, “Okay, I’m shitting. I’m literally shitting my pants.”

Just call me Forest Dump, because I was running and releasing.

You know what I did? I kept going. Yes, even as the monkey tail was extending from my body, I kept going. I wondered if people driving by could see the load in my drawers. I wondered how soon I could take a shower and burn my clothes and die of humiliation.

It was a first for me, and I hope it will be the last.

The only saving grace was that it was so cold that morning that I layered up. I was wearing leggings and a pair of insulated running pants. And what happened next is the lowest point of all but also one of my proudest. I’m sharing it with you in case you’re ever in this shitty situation ( I hope you never are, but if you are, please tell me so I can feel better about myself).

I slid into the car but I didn’t sit down. Instead, I took off my first pair of pants. Then my leggings got sacrificed as toilet paper. Once I got my first pair of pants back on, I threw my leggings away, cried the entire way home, and took the longest shower of my life.

So whenever you think you’ve hit rock bottom, just remember, I hit it harder. And I lost two pairs of my favorite running pants.

Diana Park is a writer who finds solitude in a good book, the ocean, and eating fast food with her kids.