August 31 (3 miles)

Perhaps running speeds up those special internal processes that expel waste. Often while I'm running, I get these unstoppable farting attacks. Not to be crude. Is that crude? I guess farting is one of those things that everybody does but nobody mentions. Never really any reason to talk about those kind of odors. When they strike, it's generally understood that you silently glare at the offending party, but no words are mentioned, never.

But since I'm trying to speak in my own voice and not somebody else's, I suppose it's only proper to discuss my flatulence. If I don't do it, who else will?

I wonder if these farts leave a vapor trail. Sort of like some sick alternate reality version of Knight Rider. David Hassellhoff keeps staring in the rear view mirror. He's actually just fixing his hair. But suddenly he realize he's being followed! "RELEASE THE GASSS, Kit !" he orders his mild-mannered talking sports car. And a cloudy, stinky vapor is released behind Kit (the name of the car, for those of you who never saw that t.v. show) and the driver following has to let go of the wheel to clasp his hands over his face and, most especially, his nose.

I wonder if my ripping farts on the trail could have a similar effect. People in my wake get woozy, start running at funny angles, grow short of breath, or maybe even go puke in the bushes. I would not be surprised. Fortunately, I'm always one step ahead of these gaseous emissions.

My dog Townes seems to have similar problems. Except he just shits. The last time we ran, he shit three times in half an hour. Three times! Considering his weight and the amount of food he eats, that's be like me shitting three times in 20 seconds. And that's not an experience I remember fondly.