Lonely Bathrooms and Long-Distance Runners
I’ve written numerous times about bathroom issues common among runners and probably anyone whose repetitive movements impact their gastrointestinal organs, kidneys and bladder. Pre-exercise nutrition is a key factor; you need to make sure you eat foods and drink liquids that help prevent things like diarrhea and dehydration. But there’s another important factor that isn’t always within the runner’s control.
I’m talking about restrooms. If you run or even walk long and far enough, especially if you pre-hydrate to ward off other dangers due to hot-weather workouts, then at some point you’ll need to make a pitstop. This typically isn’t an issue and may even predetermine a select route. But these are still not typical times, despite the relaxing of rules that now allow for more public interaction. Depending on where you work out outdoors, you may need to go and find a public restroom near a still-shuttered state or local park is closed. It’s also not as easy to rush into a local business to use their toilet, especially if you are sweaty and lacking facial covering (which you’re now allowed to do while exercising outdoors here in San Diego and elsewhere).
I thought of this first when listening to an NPR segment on a long-distance runner’s odyssey trying to find a place to go during self-quarantining. Then I went for a beach walk and needed to make sure I didn’t have to go, though I can hold it a lot longer when I’m not bouncing up and down.
Our beaches are opening more fully next week, which should mean both parking lots and public restrooms open too. Of course, it also means more people; however, I don’t mind sharing our sunshine and sand and waves after such a crappy spring. Let’s just hope we don’t have another run on toilet paper, since that was always hard to come by in public restrooms well before COVID-19 blew up the world.
Upsides to pandemics
A few weeks ago I made the mental shift that many others are experiencing and began to settle into this new normal that will be with us for a long time. I no longer craved social gatherings with friends. I learned to color my own hair and cut my husband’s and nephew’s. I’m successfully growing vegetables on a second-floor walkout – a first for me since losing the green thumb I’d acquired in college. The turtles now have a wading pool so they get much needed vitamin D. Even visits to the vet, which I am sorry to say have been more frequent, are easier because the techs come to get Pip from the car, rather than me trying to control her in the waiting room.
I’m still washing my hands far more often and wearing a mask when going beyond my small complex’s borders. I still detest shopping in person but no longer feel guilty ordering everything online. We still order takeout and delivery weekly to support local restaurants, but I'm in no hurry to dine in. With less time socializing, I have more time to deep clean, read, work on my novel and take long hikes in the woods that surround us. I see my grandson more often because I’m always available to babysit.
My niece graduated this morning from high school, and my sister reported she enjoyed this year’s ceremony so much more than when her sons graduated from the same place. It was shorter, and maybe not as personal, but people still expressed their support and celebrations through horn honks, cheers and quick-as-a-flash selfies from their cars parked in a large lot. There was still the strong feelings of accomplishments for both students and the people who raised them. And no one had to dress up and put on airs for everyone else in the audience.
I’m starting to not miss my old life as much as I used to. What about you?
