Shoup Airlines

Mental Note

WARNING: Parental discretion is advised. The following blog contains graphic material and student science project bashing. It is not recommended for children under the age of 14 (physically or mentally).

Just a word of advice, more to myself, than any of you. NEVER eat Taco Bell for lunch when you plan to go for a run later in the day. And when I say later in the day, I mean anything within at least a 24 hour period, post Taco Bell consumption.

I am not long for fast food to begin with, but when certain circumstances dictate I will partake. On Monday (it has taken me this long to recover from the traumatic stress), I was out in Riverside working on my ATP (a future entry) and found myself famished. Perusing the usual fare of products known to cause obesity, I had a yen for Taco Bell.

Enjoying a grilled stuft (sic) chicken burrito, a side of cinnamon twists, and a medium iced tea to wash it all down, I thought nothing more of the event. A good four hours later I went for a five mile run. Not more than a half mile into it, my stomach started to gurgle a bit. I didn’t think much of it, a common occurrence. “A little gas never hurt a runner, right?” However, this little “gurgle” began to build exponentially, and like the idiot that I am, I just continued to run and watch it. Kind of like when you flush the toilet, realize it is going to overflow, yet you just stand there, doing nothing, whilst the water comes billowing over the bowl. Not good!

“Ah, come on, you can tough it out. It’s just a little stomach pain, nothing bad can happen. Besides, you only have a mile left.”

“Yeah, but it’s not really going away, internally or externally. I don’t know…? Well, you know, I do hate it when I don’t finish a run. What the heck, it can’t get THAT bad.”

Oh, how wrong I could be! Another quarter mile and my little “gurgle” had morphed into a dark and bellowish bowel shaking earthquake that could have made Mt. Vesuvius look like a second grader’s science project that used Prego sauce and got poor marks!! I now know how the people of Pompeii felt, or would have felt, had they seen what hit them. The pucker factor knob was turned to 11…and a half. Oh, but I be damned if I didn’t stop running! No, the idiot in me persevered and made me finish the run. Let’s just say the toilet and I are not on speaking terms anymore.

There’s a reason they call it Taco Hell!