Not only were they open, they were stocked with toilet paper too.

You must have been living right. They are often locked.

I was running in Glenwood Canyon, CO last year and the urge hit me. I made it to a park/rest area and discovered that the toilets were all broken. Just dry piles of poo inside what used to be white porcelain toilets. I had no choice but to just add to the pile. They did have paper though. Which is nice.

Holy Crap! That was a great story, Marsupial. It was undoubtedly a moving experience for you.


I had an experience this morning I would like to share with you all. While I was laboring on my early morning jaunt, I found myself at the apex of my run, 2.2 miles from home exploring a new neighborhood where I had previously never gone before. My mind was taken back to Fuegote's original post and I realized that now would be a terrible time to have "the urge". The lawns were too nicely manicured to defile and the house was too far away to hobble home and avoid a “ThatSportsFan” fate.


While I was in the deepest of despairs, thinking about what could potentially happen, suddenly I came upon a new home construction site. Considering the depressed state of the economy in our area, this alone was a sign from above. But there, next to the sidewalk, basking in the soft glow of the streetlight, like a lighthouse to the lost sailor, was a blue name-brand Port-A-Potty, in exceptional condition, I might add.


And while I did not have to make use of this heaven-sent place of public convenience, it was truly a testament to me that God loves the runners (and the cyclists – I've had equally “moving” experiences on a bike that I may share at a later time).


In the name of Prefontaine, Ed Eyestone, Doug Padilla and Fuegote, Amen.

If you run, just don't run tooo early.

One morning, early around 4:30 am, nature called and I ran to the trusty toilet I knew, hoping to find relief. To my great dismay, the toilets were locked. What could I do? It was if God were punishing me for all my sins.

Somehow, calling upon reserves previously unknown to me, until I pinched and hobbled myself ignominiously down the street only to arrive and wait for the portly sleepy gal at the Taco Time to unlock those heavenly doors to the porcelain thrown. That my gal is the definition of purgatory, a closed toilet when nature calls.

I did a ten miler this morning. The rumbling started with about a mile and a half to go. I was in the woods, but with sleet and freezing rain, it was way too cold to drop trow, so I just kept running. I made it to the hotel and made a Fuegotian dash through the front lobby, down the hall and into the arms of my white porcelain friend. And once again, life was good.

Fuegote, this crapping crap has never crossed my mind until your post. I have a 10 mile race coming in mid April, and if I have any problems with the urge to drop a deuce I am blaming you.

I give myself a pre-run enema every morning. Doesn't everyone?

I haven't laughed this hard at an online thread in a looooooooooong time. Nicely done everyone.

The area here in SAT is still being developed and thankfully there are lots of porta potties spread throughout the neighborhoods.

This entire thread proves that the most maligned, and neglected, system of the body is the colon. I have a great mentor who always tells us, "Doctor, when the rectum isn't happy, the whole body isn't happy!"

As said above, getting on a good bowel regimen is vital. Running stimulates the colon to move crap down the chute.