Monday, April 13, 2009


A.K.A. Crap-All-Over-Us

I thought this race was nick-named as such, because all of the poorly patched potholes. Newer layers plopped on top of older layers, mile after mile of rough, bone-jarring road. There was some relief with a nice smooth section, but the road pitches up to a seemingly 35% gradient, so smooth road is of little consolation.

Back to Crap-All-Over-Us. Driving into the starting area, I eye-balled the closest Port-o-Potty, and parked. I had to pee for over an hour, so I ran up the green door, knocked quickly, and flung the door open. There, at the threshold of the entry, was the largest, most disgusting pile of human crap I have ever seen, with my own eyes. I think the person, must have had his ass still out of the door, since it was nowhere near the toilet.

I stepped over the crap and went pee. I kept my eyes forward, but my peripheral vision kept focusing downward to the pile. In those few moments I came up with these assumptions about the assailant...

*It had to be a man
*There was no toilet paper for me, so there was probable no paper for him. He is walking around here, smelling of fresh poo. And if he did have t.p. why didn't he scoop his mess up?!
*He must have not been a cyclist. The sheer volume, told me there was alot of alcohol consumption the night before, along with a helping of chili verde.

As I stepped over the crap and opened the door, there was a guy waiting. As if I had to explain, I told him that I did not make that mess and hurried off...........looking and sniffing every man I passed, wondering who was the mystery pooper was.