Recently changed from wan, nine, seven, three
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Wonât need changing for a good while.
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If his posting in the ravenous thread is anything to go by then @Fagan_ODowd may make an appearance here shortlyâŚ
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A superb post, I was clenching my buttocks there in trepidation reading it. Allâs well nowâŚ
Youâre nearing rock bottom
Tank Shits Himself while Running in Phoenix Park
It was shortly after making this post yesterday evening that I left for a run in the Park. It was a beautiful summerâs day and the Park was crowded with people from all walks of life. On days like this Ireland seems like a paradise. As I ran I imagined myself handing out a political pamphlet to all these people. It would be titled âWhy Leoâs Picnic Mattersâ. It would be funny and convincing. Of course I knew I would never really do this but the thought filled me with enough excitement that my pace was extremely quick. This was comfortably the best run Iâd had since my week in hospital, a month and a half ago. Everything seemed so effortless. I was back.
Around the 7km mark my gliding was suddenly interrupted by a sharp and unexpected discomfort in the bowel or anal area. I was immediately forced to stop and I was crippled over with the bloating feeling. It is incredibly unlike me to stop when Iâm running. However, I intuitively sensed that if I ran through this pain I would spectacularly shit myself. As I stood clutching my lower stomach, afraid and confused as to what had just happened, a beautiful young couple jogged past me. âThatâs embarrassingâ laughed the man in my direction. What was happening? Did I have Crohns or IBS?
I tried to jog on again but was soon forced to stop again. I badly needed to go to the toilet. Had I not gone before I left on the run? I had felt fine when I started. This had never happened me before in my entire running career.
I realised that I was in a terrible situation. I was over 2km from home and unable to run. The Park was swarming with people. Every nook and cranny was filled with groups enjoying the weather. There was nowhere I could run and nowhere I could hide. I didnât think I could make it home without shitting my pants.
I limped on for as far as I could. I was getting frantic, looking right and left for somewhere with no people. Could I sneak into the Aras? Finally I came across a small glade of trees in the middle of one of the Parkâs great lawns. On my night runs I sometimes called it the âevil gladeâ because of how it looked in the dark. People were strolling past it in all directions but no-one was going inside. Realising I could go no further I waddled over at top speed. On my way I manually forced my buttocks closed with my hands, to stop the shit from spilling out. As soon as I made it inside the glade I removed my hands from my ass cheeks and hadnât even time to fully pull down my shorts before bright orange goo started spraying from my hole onto a nearby tree. The shit was spraying up as high as my waist. Its colour was almost florescent.
I couldnât believe that this was happening. I could hear the laughter of some of the people walking by but no-one came near. I grabbed a handful of grass to clean my shitty wet ass. There were no decent sized leaves on the ground here, maybe the deer ate them all. I pulled up my pants and tried to waddle away, only to immediately rush back to the trees and my ass erupted again.
Eventually I walked back to the road and walked out of the busy park. Luckily my shorts were black so it wasnât immediately obvious that I was covered in my own shit. I realised I was in a race against time - I had to get home before I shat myself again. The thought of this spurred me into trying to run again and again I felt sick.
Finally I made it out of the Park and onto the street but I still had a mile or so to travel before I got home. I was never going to make it. And now there were no trees to hide behind. I was going to spontaneously shit myself right in the middle of the street in Dublin. I would probably be arrested.
Frantically I began searching for a toilet. I spotted the Central Criminal Court, beside the exit to Phoenix Park and ran up to the entrance. I slammed my shit-stained fists desperately against the glass doors but to no avail. They were locked. I tried a nearby pub next, Nancy Handâs, but it was locked also. The moment of final judgment was fast approaching. Everywhere was locked and there was nothing I could do. My heart was pounding.
Miraculously, I wandered home in a daze without shitting myself again. I simply accepted my fate and stopped running. This stopped the diarrhea. When I got home I googled âdiarrhea when runningâ and discovered that itâs a common condition that affects most runners, albeit not a condition that had ever affected me during all the marathons that Iâve trained for and completed. Doctors donât know exactly what causes it but possible causes include colitis (an inflamed area of the inner bowel or colon) or the bowel being slightly out of place. I had seen a spot of colitis in my colonoscopy a few weeks ago and the CAT Scan during my stay in the hospital had also shown that my bowel was slightly out of place after the infection.
I really want to be able to run again and I hope my bowel gets better.
The End
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BroâŚ
Have you considered writing a novel?
Are you going to put up your km stats?
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Did the thought cross your mind, while you were squatting and defecating while barely hidden from public view, that a Nice Post would ease the humiliation - that maybe it was all worth it?
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Was it you that was sick recently and had the colonoscopy?
If so you should probably talk to your doctor
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Thereâs a slight touch of karma about this post for the pop taken off Leo beforehand. But Iâm not sure anyone would wish this sort of shit to befall any of our fellow man.
Been there twice in my life. Managed to waddle home with the arse cheeks clenched and made it just in time
TNH.
I can never unread thatâŚ
You should have gone into the zoo.
His head was gone at that stage âŚthe only pandemic was in his jocks
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I once got the shits on a drive to Connemara. I burst into a pub in Oughterard (my aunt who was a nun was deceased and the convent seemed too risky a choice) cc @flattythehurdler - only to find some cunt had had a nose bleed all over the cubicle so it was like a scene from American Psycho. Cross the road I went and whatever I found in the next pub I was going to go for it. So I did.
I later stopped in Moycullen and the pub toilet was acceptably clean.
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