Triathlon training involves 3
disciplines: Swimming, biking, running.
What people don’t often talk about is the 4th discipline: restrooms
I couldn’t possibly have known when I started my triathlon journey 10+ years ago how much time and energy I would spend thinking about/searching for/depending on public restrooms. When you are on a 3 hour run or a 6 hour bike ride, knowing where to find a hidden-away small town park bathroom, or a clean port-a-potty, or even a not clean port-a-potty, can become extremely important. Life-saving, even. I once heard marathon-great Des Linden talking about the infamous (I mean...infamous to runners :)) port-a-potty incident during the 2019 Boston Marathon. Mid-race, fellow marathoner Shalane Flanagan told Des that she was having tummy issues and asked if she thought she should stop at a race port-a-potty, which is something pro runners only take the time to do if they absolutely have to. Des replied with something along the lines of: Well, in my experience that particular problem rarely improves with more running.
Amen, Des - truer words have never been spoken.
And I will say, when it comes to finding emergency restrooms I’ve made great strides through my years of diligent training. I apologize if this sounds like bragging...please know that countless hours have gone into honing these incredibly impressive skills:
- My tolerance for disgusting places to pee is VERY high (smelly – no problem…high “water level” - I’ll still use it….pee covering the seat – I can hover like a boss)
- I can spot a random (probably uncared for, possibly unclean, and almost definitely toilet-paper-less) port-a-potty from miles away. It’s basically a 6th sense. I can just feel their presence.
- My memory for every single restroom or port-a-potty I have ever used on a run or bike route (even if I haven’t ridden the route in years) is crystal clear. I have no idea what state we are in and certainly don’t know what road we are on, but I biked this route in 2016 and we will be passing a school in about 5 miles with a port-a-potty in the east corner of the baseball field.
When it comes to running, I’m a creature of habit, so my bathroom spidey sense generally isn’t as necessary during runs as it is during bike rides. My long runs are always on the same paved trail, with the same landmarks and, yes, same restroom stops. For years, I have depended heavily on one particular port-a-potty on the W&OD trail, positioned next to the dog park and soccer field I pass both on my way out and my way back (roughly miles 7 and 13). Sure, it's smelly, but it's very close to the trail and always (*usually*) has toilet paper, which is good enough for me. I appreciate it for what it is, and I like to think that my stops give the port-a-potty a sense of purpose.
So, you can imagine my dismay when a few Saturdays ago, as I was heading out on the trail, I looked over to find that my port-a-potty was *GONE*. The shell around it (yes, it even had a permanent shell around it, which had lulled me into an apparently false sense of permanence) was still there, but there was yellow tape criss-crossing the area where my beloved port-a-potty should have been, giving it something of a crime scene vibe (and indeed it felt, in my heart, like a crime scene).
This happened to be a morning when I kind of, um, needed my loyal port-a-potty. I knew the next for-sure restroom wouldn’t be until around mile 15, and I was on mile 7. As I continued running, I looked up and down the residential streets, really hoping to see a construction port-a-potty in front of a house being built or remodeled. These are not my ideal options as they often face the port-a-potties in a way that requires trespassing on someone’s property to use them….and there could be cameras…and it’s just a whole thing. I saw none, so even if I were desperate enough to trespass, fate had taken that option off the table.
Then I remembered: there was a side trail coming up I had always suspected might lead to a restroom. People often enter/exit the main trail at that point, and it seems like they are coming from somewhere. Plus, in the winter time when the trees are bare, you can often see the corner of a sports field of some kind. At this point, things were getting dicey, so I decided to give it a go. After all, in the wise words of Des Linden, this particular problem rarely improves with more running.
As I headed off the trail, I
saw a large field and playground equipment, all positive
signs. There appeared to be a structure
that looked suspiciously like a bathroom. Oh my goodness, oh my goodness – goldmine! The only remaining hurdle…was it open? IT WAS
OPEN!
While I mourned the loss of my port-a-potty (of course), a small part of me felt like my training life had just vastly improved. An actual brick and mortar, single-occupancy, running water, bathroom that was open early in the morning, right where I needed it on my running route. It had been here all along and I had had no idea.
Full of joy, and very
relieved, I used the restroom, washed my hands in actual running water, and turned to unlatched
the door, except…it didn’t open.
The door didn’t open.
I switched the latch again,
but the door still didn’t open.
I rammed my body against the
door as hard as I could, but the door didn’t budge.
I banged on the door a few
times, but it was around 6:30 am and nobody was in the park to hear the banging.
I don’t run with a phone, so
there was no calling anyone.
Dave was out of town and not
due back until that evening, so nobody would question my absence until then.
Even then…he knows I run on
the trail, but does he know I would stop at a bathroom slightly off the trail?
All of a sudden, the room
felt warmer than it had before, and
very, very stuffy, as sheer panic set
in.
What if I was stuck in the
bathroom for hours?
What if I was stuck in the
bathroom for days?
I did have a power gel, and
obviously running water, so I could last a while.
How often do they clean these
restrooms? Once a week? What if they
don’t clean until Friday – that’s 5 days away!
I would miss work. I would miss my Sunday bike ride. I had a dentist
appointment on Monday.
What if I had a medical
emergency while I was stuck?
What if I died in a public
bathroom?
What if I didn’t die….but they
didn’t find me for days…and my case was on the news…and they had vigils for
me…and then they found me…but I was forever known as that woman who got locked
in the bathroom for 5 days.
As my life continued to flash
before me, and I considered all of the things I could have done better over the
years, I continued to frantically throw myself against the door and flip the
latch back and forth and back and forth.
In the flurry of desperation,
I also pressed a button on the wall.
That button seemed to be the missing link, as at that moment the door miraculously swung opened, and I breathed in the freshest of hot and humid DC-area July morning air, secure in the fact that I would go on to run another day.
The lesson, my friends: there is always room for improvement in the 4th discipline. I thought I was a bathroom-finding pro, but that overconfidence led me into a potentially dangerous situation. All of the swimming, biking and running training in the world does no good if you die on the floor of a (very, very nice) park bathroom (or if you survive, but are forever known as “that woman who got locked in a bathroom for 5 days).
Finally, in memorium:
(I wish I had a better picture, but google maps doesn't seem to think a trail port-a-potty is deserving of a front-facing view)
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