LEJOG Recap, Refresh, Re-Energise – Day 7 – 20 Miles With A Misfiring Arse
P.S. I found footage of the parrot I mentioned later in this post. It’s still alive and apparently it has Tourette’s Syndrome.
I started the day tired and broken. I didn’t want to move and thought about spending the day hanging around Exford but knew I’d quickly regret that decision as there’s fuck all to do there really.
To try to feel better, I drank way too much orange juice and finished off the entire 500g box of Frosties from last night in about 30 mins in the hostel kitchen.
It wasn’t until I had exited Exford on a downhill stretch towards the village of Wheddon Cross that the stomach complaints began. At first, I wasn’t worried as it was possible to leave the road and squat behind a tree but any time I stopped deep inside the shrubbery, the shitting pains dissipated like residual hangover horniness on the morning of a funeral.
I couldn’t get into any flow with my running as every 2km it felt like I was going to have a panic attack so I retreated to the trees to scream. I was so desperate to shit and have it over and done with but the further I went into the forest the more I got the impression something was watching me and that I was going to be ambushed from behind.
I made it to a village called Timberscombe in a state of desperation. I could see in the distance a pub open but when I got to the doors it was closed for the season. I panicked and ran up behind a small wall and started sharting like an urban fox. It was pretty humiliating but there was nowhere to go and it was better to overshoot the runway than soil myself and run up the A396 looking like some kind of shitting terrorist.
After this, the pain in my stomach stopped for a bit until I got to the next village.
I took a massive dump in a pub in Dunster where there was a parrot in the doorway to the toilet. I was pretty sure it was going to make my transgressions against porcelain known and develop PTSD, chirping out portions of Mein Kampf instead of “Polly wants a cracker”. I bought an extra 3 or 4 drinks to try to feel less guilt about what I put that toilet through. Fuck it. It wasn’t my fault. If the toilet was broken after me they need to start a lawsuit with Kelloggs. They should not be selling cereal which makes your arse die like that. Next time I’m in Dunster I’ll leave some Trill and Valium behind at The Forresters Arms. I dearly hope the parrot is alive and well.
From there it was an easy finish to the day. There was nothing left inside of me to come out and the accommodation I’d booked for the evening was by far the best of the journey so far.
They did my washing for me and I tried to put the day’s events to the back of my mind. I got through the worst of it and learned some difficult lessons about fuelling and the ramifications of overhydrating.
The couple who owned the B&B asked me if I wanted Frosties with my breakfast the next day. I politely declined.