This past weekend we were lucky enough to be invited to spend it in Rockport with our extended family. My parents, my brother's family, my family, and the family of my parent's friends (including their kids and grandkids) all got together for 3 nights and 4 days of fun! My parent's friends are the Sutton's, and they own the canal house that we were lucky enough to stay in. It's absolutely beautiful (and it's for sale!), and we really enjoyed getting to spend time together as a family, and also with their awesome family. And now, for the poop story . . .
As you well know, I'm a runner. Just because I go on vacation doesn't mean I stop running. I still have a schedule I adhere to, and as my family knows, if I don't run, I'm usually not a happy camper. Saturday mornings are reserved for my long runs. A long run for me is typically 5 or more miles, but it turns out that this week I would not have a running buddy. I'd asked my friend Cyndy if anyone in the family ran (hoping for a partner for at least 2 miles, since I don't like to do more than 4 on my own), but my only hope was their family dog, Cowboy. Unsure as to whether Cowboy had ever run distance or not, I decided to strike out on my own.
It was 7:40 am, and I was dressed to kill. Ok, not really. I actually had on my KatyFit Coach Shirt. Not because I wanted people to know I was a coach, but because it is an obnoxious yellow color, and I didn't want to get hit by a car. I also had on my matching skirt which is gray, with obnoxious yellow accents. Not to mention my gray and obnoxious yellow running shoes. I didn't do it on purpose, people. It just happened to go that way.
I decided to run 3 miles for several reasons, the first of which I was on my own. I was in unfamiliar territory, didn't know a specific route, and let's not forget the fact that the highs during that week were over 100 degrees. Yep, hotter than H-E-double hockey sticks.
I set off from the canal house we were staying in, and ran towards the house of our friends. It was a route we'd driven several times over the past two days, so I figured there was no way I could get lost. Sure enough, I passed by the Sutton's home after about a mile, and continued on another half a mile. Right when I decided to turn around, it hit me. I'd eaten Mexican food the day before. And it didn't hit me in my mind . . . it hit me somewhere else.
No details, people, but let's just say that concentrating on 'holding it' while you're also concentrating on maintaining proper running form, can be a bit difficult. I tried in vain to make it back to the canal house we were staying in, but after 3 minutes I knew there was no way I'd make it. I actually had to resort to walking. Too much brain power required to concentrate on both objectives.
Suddenly, I saw the Sutton's house in front of me. I had three options here. I could either try to make it another mile back to our place (impossible), take off my shoes and visit Matagorda Bay (not a good option for the environmentalists), or I could swallow my pride and see if anyone was up at the Sutton's. I chose the Sutton's. Since it was now about 8 am, and kind of an ungodly hour, I figured if I knocked on the door and no one answered, my next option was the bay.
I hobbled up to the door, and tried to quietly knock, but I had forgotten about the dogs. They quickly announced my arrival. The door was answered by Will and Chance, 2nd and 1st graders (respectively). I asked to use the potty, and they pointed me towards their bathroom. After I'd gotten things taken care of and washed my hands, I opened the door and they were both standing there with pop guns pointed at me. I laughed and thanked them for letting me use their potty. Then I ran upstairs and thanked one of their dads and their grandpa for letting me visit as well. Then I ran home.
If you're a runner, you know sometimes there are just no options. And at some point, you have to swallow your pride. When I got home, I admitted to my family what I'd had to do. My mom was mortified, to say the least, but Mike, having been privy to my Gu issues before (Gu being a nutritional running supplement for you non-runners), just laughed. My dad laughed, too. I'm not sure if I made him proud, but he did chuckle.
So, later, we go back over to the Sutton's as a family. And when we get there, the kids are all swimming in the pool together. And I overhear Will, my bathroom buddy from earlier, announcing to the other kids "Earlier, Sammy's mommy came over and she stunk up our bathroom really bad." Go ahead - laugh. You know you want to! I did!
And I had two options. Mortal embarrassment, or own it and move on. Yep, I owned it. What else can you do? We all know why I had to go there! At least be an adult and don't try to lie about it. I mean, they already had their guns pointed at me like I was an intruder - and I was, for goodness sake!
For the rest of the weekend, I had to live it up as the running pooper. What a name I made for myself. I'm so embarrassed - and yet, what can you do?
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