So, this morning's bike ride to work was kind of exciting. It was only 38 degrees, which is pretty darned chilly for us, this time of year. Normally, we won't get too many days that are much colder than that. I bundled up about as much as I ever bundle up. Skull cap, arm/leg warmers, jacket, glove liners, toe warmers, etc. I headed out, feeling good and as I dropped down into the Santa Ana River wash, two things happened. Number one, I was cold. 38 degrees isn't that cold standing still, I know, but going 25+ mph on a bicycle.... Yeah, it's cold. Second thing that happened was I got a little rumbly in the tummy. :shock: OK, so there's that, but it wasn't too bad, I knew I would be OK.
I continued on the ride and was feeling pretty good. I was maintaining a pretty decent pace without much effort. That's a good thing. I noticed as I climbed over the 215 FWY that the rumbly in my tummy was getting a little more persistent, but put it out of my mind, I would make it. I climbed up into Rialto, turned on Eucalyptus and found myself at my checkpoint within two minutes of where I like to be.... Doing good. I got within probably two miles of work, though, and the rumbly got much more serious; we're talking Defcon 3. :shock: :shock: I've been in this spot before and had to sacrifice a sock. I didn't have any extra socks today and there was no such convenient place, so I pressed on knowing I would make it. I turned onto Locust, which is about 1/4 mile from the street my work is on and we went to Defcon 5. :shock: :shock: :shock: Things progressed quickly from here. I was pedaling hard to make our street and was planning ahead the things I needed to do before dumping the warp core. I turned onto our street and the alert went to Defcon 8, full-on brown flag alert. I sprinted up to the maintenance shop where I park my bicycle, leaned it against the wall, turned off the flasher and headed for the door. By now, I'm down to praying that the door to our side is unlocked. Sometimes, it isn't, which means I have to go in through the maintenance side, which is slick concrete floor. I'm wearing carbon soled road shoes, which do not mix well with slippery floors when you are at Defcon 9 and doing breathing practice and all you can to keep focused on maintaining control of your sphincter. Fortunately for me, the door was, indeed, unlocked and it's five short steps to the bathroom. You might think the adventure is over by now, but it's only just begun. The alert rang Defcon 10, if there is such a thing, as I entered the bathroom and keep in mind I have all this cold weather garb on PLUS, I am wearing bibs. This means, at the very least, I have to get my cycling jersey off before I can take the bib shorts down and get to business. First, off come the gloves, then the jacket, then the jersey... Clothes are flying all around the room. The helmet goes on the counter and I get myself situated in front of the hopper as I begin the final stages of getting those darned bibs down. I swear on all that is Holy, the pad no more than cleared when the squirrel poked it's head out. I didn't even get fully seated when the onslaught began and my backside was not fully settled into the seat contours before it was over. I sat there for a few moments stunned that I had made it. I surveyed the carnage of the room; my jersey on the floor, gloves and jacket thrown aside, my helmet on the counter with the blinkie light still blinking. I still had my arm warmers on, but nothing else above the waist. I checked the bright yellow pad of my cycling shorts for signs of any fragmentation. All was clear in the southern rear. The mission complete and succesful, I could not believe it.
Now, I know that not everybody appreciates bathroom stories and if you're with me to this point and disgusted, I apologize. I think only a cyclist can appreciate the horror you experience when the urge to purge becomes imminent and there's nowhere to go. I can laugh about it now, especially since I did not have to wash my cycling shorts out in the shower, but it was real close. I think if I'd had to ride another 50 feet to work, I would not have made it. As it is, I am celebrating the fact I did.
Mark
I could have fixed it but I usually just have enough time in the morning to get to work.
