This is the third article in my Around the World series.  I guess I can call it, a trilogy!

The first article was HASHING AROUND THE WORLD.  It described my many experiences and adventures running with the Hash House Harriers, an international running and drinking club.  For 20 years, my work in international humanitarian development required me to frequently travel to Third World countries in the Near East, Asia and Pacific region.  My organization had a project in Tonga.  My first encounter with the Hash House Harrier runners was there.  I met many expatriates living and working in Nuka'Lofa, the capital of the tiny archipelago kingdom. It was a lot of fun. As I traveled overseas thereafter, I sought out Hash clubs in each country and ran and drank with the members. I hashed in Rome, Istanbul, Islamabad, Jerusalem, Cairo, Amman and Manila -- I found this to be an instant social connection to an interesting cross section of the expatriate and local society in each city. It was an informal international social fraternity. I enjoyed the unpretentious, sophomoric attitude of the club members -- and became a regular.  My hash name is Pillar of Salt.  I got my handle from the White House Hash House Harriers club.  

My second article was FALLING AROUND THE WORLD. I am a clumsy runner.  When running long distances, I get tired or lazy -- and then I shuffle.  If I don't pick my feet up high enough, I can stumble -- and fall.  While on overseas business trips, I kept up my running regimen and had several nasty falls -- and some interesting ones -- that required hydrogen peroxide, iodine and bandages -- and two tetanus shots. In that article, I described a Dirty Dozen of my nastiest and most interesting falls in Jerusalem, Rome, Jakarta, Gumushluk, a Turkish seaside resort, Singapore and other places.

The two previous articles dealt with running.  I needed another article with a runners' theme.  I have been thinking about doing this Gotta Go article for several years but have put off its writing. "Gotta Go" is my son's suggestion for the title of this article.  My original working title was "Pooping Around the World."

This subject is for a mature, open-minded and worldly audience -- certainly not for the squeamish or prudish.  I must describe natural bodily functions that affect runners, and me in particular, and the awkward situations in which I found myself.  And the point of my writing this is to describe those situations where I (and/or other runners) have no other practical option -- but to go.  

I recently wrote an article about an overseas marathon and described one of my routine practices -- how I relieved myself before the start of the race by using an empty wide-mouthed Gatorade bottle.  That brought the subject of this possible article back to mind and stimulated me to do it and to no longer put off writing about this delicate subject.

Runners' Special Needs Long distance runners, especially marathon runners, train on an almost daily basis.  They must run on streets or trails at hours when toilets in restaurants are not readily found or are not open.  At marathons and other races, there are lots of portable toilets (with cute names such as Port-a-John, Don's Johns, Sani-John, Port-a-Pottyand Johnny-On-the-Spot.) But there are too few portable toilets to accommodate the long lines of people waiting to use them.   Some runners are adaptable -- and relieve themselves as best they can and wherever they can.  Others are not.  I can proudly state that I am one of the former.

In the critical fifteen minutes before a race, one sees long lines of runners snaking out in front of each porta-john with their butts and knees clenched -- shifting from foot to foot -- patiently waiting their turn.  But one can also see dozens of runners, of both sexes, unobtrusively slipping away into the bushes to relieve themselves.  I first saw this phenomenon many years ago at the highway start of the Marine Corps Marathon.

I followed the runners, jumped over the road shoulder fence, and went into the bushes.  There I saw men and women, squatting side-by-side, eyes straight ahead -- without feelings of shame or impropriety.  When they finished, they stood and tucked in their clothing -- and ran back to take their place in the starting line.  I thought this was practical and convenient.  I applied this practical solution in other races and other situations.  I always try to remember to run with TP.

At the start of the Luxor Marathon, in a desert region in Upper Egypt, there were no trees or bushes. I saw a deep pit in the desert sand, nearby, probably part of a construction project.  I ran down into the sand pit, safely out of sight, and relieved myself.

I rode a Boston Marathon bus on the 26-mile ride to the town of Hopkinton.  Hundreds of buses are used to transport 20,000 participants to the marathon start at noon from Hopkinton.  The runners then race to downtown Boston.  Midway on my bus trip, one of the runners told the driver that if he didn't stop, she would have to go in her pants.  He immediately stopped the bus and opened the door.  She rushed out and ran into an open field.  Twenty runners jumped off the bus and followed her into the field -- no bushes -- to get relieved. Others on the bus looked on from the window without a negative reaction, just understanding.   Fellow runners were attending to a basic need.

The point is that pooping and peeing in public, when the need is urgent, is not gross -- but totally practical and acceptable to other runners.  No one wants to miss the start of the Marine Corps Marathon by waiting endlessly in line for a porta-john.  So they jump into the bushes before the start.  The underpasses of the first two bridges after the race start are also popular pit stops for male runners.  They peel off and go off to the side to urinate.  I prefer the bushes before the start.  I always watch those runners under the bridges losing precious moments -- the difference between winning and losing -- if you are a competitive runner as I am.  The same is true for the first mile of the Boston Marathon -- the bushes are full of people who make a pit stop in the first minutes of the race to avoid a later emergency.

Potomac Park Miss Ann is a former Park Ranger.  She supports me in my races in every way.  But she abhors my pre-race anti-environment practices.  Ann is not a prude.  But she believes I will kill all the trees in West Potomac Park by peeing on them.  I point to the constant flow of men and women running into the bushes alongside the Tidal Basin before each race. I claim that even one hundred runners peeing on one huge oak tree couldn't kill it. (That's some image!)

Ann once introduced me to the Chief Ranger at the Park Headquarters near the Washington Monument.  I started to tell the Ranger how much I appreciate all the trees and bushes near the race starts.  Ann shushed me with a sharp elbow to my ribs before I could continue.  

Rock Creek Parkway I remember when I had to make emergency stops during two Cherry Blossom 10 mile races on Rock Creek Parkway.  Once I stopped to relieve myself.  I had to pee against a huge tree -- as crowds of runners passed, I looked up at the sign.  It said, "P Street Exit."  That was appropriate!  Look for the sign next time you drive there, Ann. The tree next to it is still alive and flourishing.

The second time was last month, April 2006.  I couldn't go before the race and started to get urges seconds before the starting gun.  I controlled myself for the first five or six miles.  Then I could not hold it in any longer, so I peeled off from the crowd of runners, climbed up a steep hill to a narrow ledge with a large tree that overlooked the runners.  I could not get behind the tree and be out of sight, no matter how I moved around it.  So I just squatted and did my business in full view of the hundreds of runners that ran below.  I am certain none paid attention, looked up or would even have been perturbed had they looked up.  But I didn't seek their eye contact.  After the race, I confessed to Ann that I had to go on Rock Creek Parkway, another Park Service road.  Disgusted with me, she said she will get me a box of Depends for my next long race.

Cairo I often visited Cairo on business and I always ran in the early morning.  I have lots of stories about running the streets of Cairo.  One time I was a long way from my hotel.  It was just after dawn and normally one wouldn't expect to see people on the street.  I had to go urgently.  I turned down a street planning to squat somewhere -- maybe behind a car.  But wherever I went, I saw people walking on the streets. I turned other corners looking for deserted streets.  But people were always around.  They were all walking toward me. They came out of buildings. They came from around corners.

I ran back to the main street, and saw the entrance to an underground parking garage.   That seemed to be the perfect solution.  I ran into the large drive-in entrance and went down to the garage. I didn't get far. There was a watchman sitting on the side -- and he shoo-ed me away.  I went out, crossed the street and climbed over a fence.  I tried to go in an open place with newly planted low trees.  The watchman came out of the garage across the street, shouted, caught my eye and angrily waved me away. I couldn't hold out much longer. My solution:  I knocked on the door of the posh private Nile River row-boating club.  I pleaded to the worker that answered the door, using body language and sign language. "Can I use your toilet?"  He got my message and unlocked the door to the toilet. Inside was a hole in the ground. No toilet paper but there was a pot of water.  I was used to that in Egypt.  I was happy.

New York Marathon This is a famous marathon.  Starting at 6:30 AM, all runners are bused from Manhattan's New York Public Library to Staten Island where over 30,000 runners wait in an open park until the race starts at noon.  The World's Longest Urinal, over 100 yards long, is located in the park. It is made of plastic pipe, cut in half and duct-taped together. (It leaks at the joints.) Thousands of men line up at it.  Observing the urinal and its urine river current is one of the ways to pass time until the race start.  Women go on the other side and sneak photos.

The upper and lower decks of the mile-long Verrazano Narrows Bridge are the race's starting line.  Tens of thousands of marathon runners stood in the corrals on the bridge waiting for the race to start.  Those that did not use the World's Longest Urinal, just let go where they stood in the upper deck.  Those runners standing patiently directly below in the lower deck, including me, had yellow rain falling through the gratings from above.  And yellow liquid was pooling on the ground around our sneakers.  (That's where I got the idea for the empty Gatorade bottle.  I wish everyone used them.)

I was running in the streets of Brooklyn shortly after coming off the Verrazano Bridge. I had to go urgently.  I was in stress and ran up the steps of a row of brownstones, rang the bell and waited impatiently, holding in.  No one answered and I went down the steps and to the next house, ran up the steps and rang that bell. I was losing precious minutes in the race.  A man finally answered.  I imagine he was surprised to be confronted by a tall sweating gray haired man in shorts asking to use his toilet.  He rightfully said, no.  

I couldn't wait longer.  I ran around the corner, opened a gate, went in and squatted down behind a garbage can with my hands holding on the iron railing of the gate.  I must have looked like the ubiquitous "Kilroy" from the World War II famous graffiti.

50 Mile Race I was going to do my first ultra-marathon -- the JFK 50 Miler.  It starts in Boonsboro, Western Maryland, goes 15 miles mostly uphill on the rocky Appalachian Trail then down many switchbacks to the C&O Towpath for 26.2 miles on a dirt path that passes Harper's Ferry and the Antietam Battlefield and finally continues eight miles over rolling hills to the finish.  I was to run with two women who ran the race before.  "Stay with us, Jerry, and we'll all finish in less than 10 hours," said Loretta and Maria.  I stayed with them on this dawn-to-dusk race. Once we got past the rocky trail and settled in for the long, long boring stretch of 26 miles on the towpath, the women had to stop periodically to use the portable toilets.  And wait in line.  I went into the woods. They were still waiting in line when I came back. I told them they should also use the woods.  It was quicker. I would stand guard.  But they insisted on waiting in line. Very proper of them. There were several stops during that long day.  I waited for them at each toilet stop.  

We three all finished together -- just a couple of minutes over 10 hours.  I still joke with Loretta and Maria and say that if it wasn't for them waiting in line for the toilets, we could have finished well under 10 hours.  That was eight years ago.  I haven't run that race since.

Problems I was on a 40 minute bus ride between Islamabad and Rawalpindi in Pakistan.  Islamabad was then a new capital city that was constructed in an unpopulated forest area.  The bus was traveling through a deserted section on the road.  I had to go urgently.  I held back as long as I could.  Then I had to ask the driver to stop and let me out.  In the middle of nowhere.  This was a stupid thing to do -- but at the time I had no recourse.  Later, I had to hitchhike back to my hotel in Rawalpindi -- without incident.

In Luxor, Egypt I was on a four-loop course of a marathon.  I was almost at the end of the first loop, when I had to go.  Every part of Egypt near the Nile and in the Delta is heavily populated.  I looked for a quiet place, without any women, to stop -- swiveling my head and running.  I saw a building on the left side of the road that seemed ideal.  I could go behind it.  Then a woman came out of the building. I couldn't go there. I resumed my running and head swiveling -- and tripped and fell.  I gashed my arms and legs.  I was out of the marathon.  That was the only race I didn't finish.

Army 10 Miler My son, Steve, was running his first ten mile race and I wanted to be with him to support his major effort.  I was to run a full marathon two weeks after this race.  So I intended to just run alongside Steve.  It was a large race -- perhaps 24,000 runners.  There were long lines waiting for portable toilets. Ten minutes before race start, we got at the end of a long line.  Steve didn't want to go in the bushes.  We waited and waited in line.  Time was running out.  The race was about to start and there still were several people in front of us.  We were still last on line.  My son was inside the portable toilet when the cannons blasted to signal the start of the race.  When he came out, we had to run to the start line to begin the race. We started last.

A Defining Moment I've had my share of toilet problems as described above and I've explained how I dealt with those situations.  I often wonder when it was that I first decided to deal with my issues on the spot.  Where did it all start?  I think my inclination started in Chincoteague, a summer beach resort in Virginia when I was on a family vacation.  I went on a long run. Everything was closed early Sunday morning in that tiny tourist town. Near the end of my run, I had strong urges and had to go immediately.  I had no recourse but to get back to the cottage fast -- but I never made it.  I had to go while running. That was a bad day for me.  After that, I vowed to find someplace to go regardless of where I was and what were the consequences. I imagine Chincoteague was the place -- where it all started.  My defining moment.