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Night Run

With the Harvest Moon rising over my shoulder and casting my shadow in front of me; with crickets singing everywhere to mark the evening, bats flitting across my vision, an occasional bird—unknown to me—wondering aloud if it is now time to head south; with the temperature in the fifties, making it difficult to sweat; with the stress of the day radiating from my skin and pressed through my feet onto the ground; with wide sidewalk ahead, quiet emptiness of a soon-to-be but still-empty subdivision to one side, untraveled road to the other and, beyond it, cornfield to rustle in the slight breeze; with all this it would have been nice, tonight, running my miles, except for the split pea soup that welled from my gut every two dozen steps and supplied me, every two dozen steps, a mighty belch.



At least it wasn’t coming out the other end. That’s a pretty common affliction for runners.

I know that feeling. Usually, if even I suspect it might happen, I forego the run. It’s awful to have to step into a laundromat early in the morning (I’ve only recently switched to evening—to shake up my routine a bit) to fill the toilet. Worst about it, besides the runs, is that I am a capital sweater, and you can imagine what t.p. does on a sweaty backside…

That’s pretty bad, but I was thinking about loud, serial farting; a less messy but more public affair.

those of us with a borderline-colicky newborn have a real appreciation for the kind of belch you mention.
with respect to the comments…is this why it’s called “the runs”?

3: Oh that! Yeah, I fart all the time when I run. It’s one reason I hate to run with other people, because the farting is one of the things that makes running fun.

4: To borrow JH’s euphemism, that’s a less messy meaning of “the runs” than the one I always imagined, which involved splattering and… well, that’s probably enough.

The British sometimes call the runs “Delhi belly,” named for India’s capital.

How imperialist!

But you know, part of me thinks it would be fascinating to compile a list of all AHEM! culturally-referential diarrhetic euphemisms.

Back to 4: Just to be clear, Mary, it is the baby who is belching, yes?

(Aside: It is curious how our readership/commenting changes so dramatically when we talk gaseousness instead of religion or politics? Isn’t gaseousness the more universal affliction?)

They would doubtless outnumber the stars in the sky.

Of course, there is at least one scientific paper on “traveler’s belly.”

i don’t know where you were running, G, but where i was, the temperature was situated perfectly in the 70s.

jogging with the sweet sound of bob dylan’s latest blues album in your ears can really mask all of the unfortunate noises and puffs of air eminating from the body. i recommend it.

50s, 70s—clearly, the difference is inconsequential.

70s: perfect belching weather.

the breaking of the wind, at least in the copiousness you describe is directly related to the nazi-vegitarianism life-style you lead. and, it’s a reason you should give it up. omnivores don’t fart as much and so they don’t produce as much methane as vegetario-fascists, all who are also worried about global warming but not enough to eat veal and cut down the gaseous emissions of their corporeal factory.

When will you realize that “nazi-vegetarianism,” as you so blithely call it, is the more civilized way of life? Though we may fart more often, our farts don’t smell half as bad as yours. And there are other benefits…

But put that aside: frankly, you’re wrong, and UrbanDictionary proves it. There’s a definition for “runner’s fart” but nothing—nothing!—for the corresponding herbivorous gas.

oh, run the urbandictionary. all you vegetario-fascists have some sort of elaborate excuse!

(frankly, i’m surprised that you didn’t inform me that millions and millions of belching cows produce more methane than billions and billions of vegie-belchers… or, maybe i’m not, because that’s too obvious a rebuttal.)

Plus, I think we’ve been over that one before, and boring waters neither deep nor fast.

oh, so now you start throwing around the B word… oh, ok, i get the hint.

Are you done with that book yet? Because until you are, you don’t have the luxury to be anything but.

You can, however, eat more vegetables, lower your cholesterol, and, well, as I said.

do you mean the one that i need to write for tenure?

we’ve got a confessions of stressed out college prof coming soon… ‘cept i don’t wanna put it on the front page.

yes, baby who belches. as for the other stuff, chris and i can verify that far more scary gastrointestinal things occur when you eat a lot of meat. at least, if you suddenly start eating it, as we did during the past month when people were bringing us meals all the time. also, fwiw, vegan pregnant women do not get constipated as do meat-eating ones. just in case anyone was wondering. (not that i am vegan…my friend who is told me this, and my less-meat-eating pregnancy experience this time around suggests it’s true)

as for 14-16, i have to say that G’s propensity for really scary belching episodes stems not from the vegetarian diet, but rather from the fact that G eats every meal at a speed that would suggest that a giant bird of prey might swoop down and scoop him up if he dallies too long over his food. it’s kind of amazing to see, but unfortunately it has some very sad consequences for all of us.

21: This is good to know. I’ve always considered that story about chronic constipation one of the really horrifying aspects of pregnancy. Another reason to keep the mandatory-bowl-of-high-fiber-cereal-every-day rule, too, I guess. That’s the rule in our house, anyway. :)