Gotta Go

(This won't be a delicate post. Just warning you.)

I got partway through my run Saturday and had a problem. Friday's bad eating had caught up with me and, bad news, I was three miles from home.

Now, there are those who laugh at my running/biking routes. I tend to make circles around my house because I never want to be too far away from home should I blow out my knee or a tire. It would be far more interesting, probably, to hit the trails or ride my bike to, say, Clinton. But I have a fear of getting stuck far away without a good way to get back home.

So here I was, three miles from home. But luckily, three miles from my house was smack dab in the middle of the little town I live near. And, luckily again, the little town sports two bars and one church. One bar has a back door where you can sneak directly into the bathroom without being seen by the regulars.

I did just that.

I feel badly for darting in and out, without so much as buying a beer. I promise to make it up to them on the next 2-for-1 burger night.

I'll buy an extra beer on that trip and not use the restroom at all to make it all even out.