flinging poo and blowing snots

Don't ever think running is an elegent sport. The necessity to hold a given pace for a period or time or wait around amongst a mass of people for the start of a race has a certain amount of influence on what one considers socially acceptible. Take Mississauga the year before last. Inaugural runs are subject to oversights and such, and it's not unusual for even established races to come up short on facilities. Just west of Square One lies sections of undeveloped land, some of it park, some of it just regen, which became a convenient and well used toilet for the 3000 odd runners taking part in the events of the day. The lineups at the potties precluded getting through before gun time so a parade of men and women alike took advantage of the thick untended brush to relieve themselves of their pre-race hydration strategies. It's funny how quick one abandons their modesty when a) your teeth are swimming b) those people over there don't seem overly worried about squating on a trillium plant.

I have had reason to make the wonderful park facilities in central Toronto my own personal lavatory on occasion, usually just for watering purposes only, but not always. Despite the prominence of washroom facilities, it doesn't help much that the park staff won't unlock the doors until well after the posted 'this washroom closed until 8:00 am nightly' expected opening time. Nonetheless, I try to stick to certain requirements...cover the offending material, stay beyond 200 meters of any water...etc. I make the grandest efforts to keep this event to maybe once a year, which this year was yesterday. I knew it was going to be an issue when I was a mile out when certain forces began their parade forthwith and I just decided to keep going forward instead of looping back. When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Snot rockets are another issue. There's only so many ways to clean those pipes when you're breathing like a locomotive. It's not a pretty sight and not something to execute in the presence of others. Other options, which I've exercised at times, are using one's shirt, using one's pocket, or just making sure you've got a supply of tissue on hand, although once they become bathed in sweat they're not particularly useful for anything other than plugging holes in drywall.

Yes, we look like we're doing something healthy, and yes some of us might be dressed to the nine's in our high-techy fabric shorts, jog bras and proliferation of equipment strapped to our chests and belts. It's just those human essentials we have difficulty with.