I had a friend who loved to run marathons. He was pretty intense with his training. Everyday at lunch he’d run for miles and somehow managed to get himself back together for that first after lunch meeting.
His name was Ron. And although he was cool and collected at work, he apparently had a stomach of nerves on the day of his big races.
Ron once told me he showed up bright and early on the morning of a big race. He enjoyed arriving early so he could get himself into his ‘runner’ mindset.
After parking his car, he walked up to the starting line and waited as more runners began to arrive. The longer he waited, however, the more he thought about his big race. The more he thought about his big race, the more irritated his stomach became.
There was a line of Port-a-Pottys located up a hill away from the starting line. It was a slight dilemma because the race was going to start soon. He said he would be cutting it close as far as getting back to begin the race but really had no choice.
Knowing his stomach wouldn’t wait, he finally decided to try to run up the hill to quickly hit the john.
No sooner had he sat down and breathed a sigh of relief, did he hear the loud “BANG!!!” of the start gun.
And there he was…in a blue Port-a-Potty. As all his fellow competitors took off.
He had somehow miscalculated how much time he had before the start of the race.
He never did tell me how well he finished.