The GI tract/running conflict is a formidable foe. It lurks within as a lingering nuisance, but every now and then strikes with the hammer of Vulcan.

One day last spring we were doing a tempo workout. I was running up with the faster group for a while, but towards the end they started to dust me and I was left stranded in no man's land between the faster and slower groups in our long distance squad. There was only a mile or so remaining when the gods began to stir. 1 second...ok I acknowledge that is beginning to happen...2 seconds...can I hold it?...3 seconds...I should prolly find somewhere to stop...4 seconds...!!!!!!!! I just started laughing hysterically. 4 seconds? 4 seconds!!!?!?!!!!! Are you kidding me? I mean cmon I'm good at this. I do this several times a week. I have like a 98% success rate! But 4 seconds?!?!

Luckily Fate was on my side (I guess) and the road which I was running on at that point was surrounded by foliaged, forested, wooded...woods. So I hastily located the nearest water source, a creek, or what would qualify as a creek for my purposes. In my late May 1984 suit I rinsed myself and my shorts thoroughly, while holding off bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

After regaining composure I resumed and finished up my run on the track. Gary Andrew (former coach), in his usual too enthusiastic mood (interestingly, I found out yesterday that enthusiasm literally means "having god enter the worshipper" - sounds like I was the enthusiastic one) exclaimed "Ahh, John! How did it go?"
I just replied, "Ya know, Gary, it was a good run. It was great. I felt great out there. Very strong."
"Well that's swell...glad to hear it."