The day I shat myself springs to mind…
Picture this,
A glorious day riding in the pentland hills was had. I decided to ride home as I started to feel a bit dicky.
I’m embarking on the 7 mile ride through Edinburgh to get home when an ungodly rumble emanates from my guts.
Oh no, I need to poop. Now.
I think of my options.
Can I make it home? No way. No way at all.
Can I run into a pub? I don’t have a lock, no way I’m leaving it outside.
Can I bring the bike into said pub? How’s that going to work, “mate, watch my bike while I make a war-zone out of your convenience.”
Can I go at the side of the road? Nope, busy area.
I have to dive into a garden.
I look hopefully into every garden I pass. This is a pretty posh area with big detached houses and perfectly groomed gardens.
This is not good.
I think it’s coming.
Yup some just come out.
Ok think.
Can I just unload in my shorts & ride home?
I’m wearing boxers with zero containment facilities.
I’ve never clenched my cheeks so much before.
I round the corner & see a supermarket car park.
I look around making a quick assessment.
There’s a strip of bushes separating the carpark from the pavement by the road.
This will have to be the scene of my humiliation.
I cycle into the bushes, dive of the bike, simultaneously pulling at my shorts.
It starts to come before I’ve cleared the shorts out of the way.
What follows is the release of the evil cauldron of hate that had been festering in my bowels.
I’m hearing people walk by.
God, I hope they don’t see/smell me.
There’s more people coming, a group of girls, I can hear the click of heels.
No time to try to clean up.
I’m a mess.
It’s down my legs.
I get back on the bike and ride away. Rapid.
My arse is warm & moist.
Every time I stop at a red light the stench hits me.
I must go like the wind to leave my problems behind.
I get home.
Say nothing to wife.
I strip in the shower.
I’m amazed at how much poop boxers can actually take. I underestimated them.
I scrub myself for 1/2 hour.
Reflect on how difficult it is to take off shorts & boxers filled with poop while not making mess of bathroom.
Wonder how I’m going to clean reflected upon mess I’ve made of the bathroom.
TL;DR
My bowels ruin a perfectly nice day of riding by making an unexpected announcement.