Last weekend, some 12,600 runners in more than 1,000 teams converged on western Oregon for the 33rd annual Hood to Coast, a 197-mile relay race from lofty Mt. Hood to the coastal town of Seaside.
It's a crazy event.
You know what's even crazier? A certain Hood to Coast-related article that appeared Saturday in The Oregonian. Here is the headline:
What Happens When a Hood to Coast Runner Goes Missing: 2014 Hood to Coast Relay
Here is the first paragraph:
At 6:30 a.m. Saturday, a teenage runner on the Hood to Coast Relay went missing. Her teammates on the ground were panicked, but the communications team inside the Hood to Coast Race Control center in Southwest Portland remained calm.
Huh! Interesting. So, the second paragraph:
They get 20 to 30 missing person calls every year, communications director Martin Anderson said, but every one eventually turns up. The team has heard everything, from runners simply veering off course to runners falling asleep in portable toilets.
After that, the article sort of– WAIT HOLD UP STOP. Runners falling asleep in portable toilets?
Readers, as a journalist journalism-degree-haver myself, I am reluctant to publicly "call out" my fellow professionals for their mistakes. But this one's a doozy. This reporter completely misses the boat. The headline here is not "What Happens When a Hood to Coast Runner Goes Missing." The headline here is "RUNNERS SLEEP IN PORTABLE TOILETS." (In ALL CAPS.)
That, my friends, is news.
Unfortunately, because the reporter in question left this nugget of gold just lying there, buried in the second paragraph, we know nothing else about this phenomenon. Just that RUNNERS SLEEP IN PORTABLE TOILETS. Which continues to amaze me, even now, as I type the words.
Questions abound. Well, mostly one question. Anyone who's ever seen the inside of a porta-john – i.e., every runner ever – is probably left wondering not so much "who/what/when/where/why," and more "how." As in, "How the hell do you sleep inside one of those things? I mean, seriously?"
Yet again, Remy's World is here for you. I spent the better part of a day thinking on this, and here's what I've come up with.
How to Sleep Inside a Porta Potty, Scenario 1
The most obvious method of snoozing in a crap closet. Also the saddest. Especially if your shorts are around your ankles. Doubly especially if you're still "going" as you drift off.
How to Sleep Inside a Porta Potty, Scenario 2
I can't imagine this configuration is very comfortable, but you never know. If there's a side-mounted TP roll, it could serve as a sort of pillow, I suppose.
How to Sleep Inside a Porta Potty, Scenario 3
This one takes some forethought, but the advantages are obvious. Using whatever materials are at hand, you fashion a crude hammock, using a few steel S-hooks or toggle bolts to hang it well off the filthy floor. (This assumes you carry S-hooks or toggle bolts with you when you run, which for most of us is a fair assumption, I think.)
That last one actually wouldn't be too bad. With a few votive candles and a pine-tree air freshener, you could create a real little oasis there. And you'd never be far from the bathroom.
Anyway, this is all just speculation. I expect the good people at The Oregonian to pick this story up where I left off. How does one sleep in a porta potty? Can you scare up some photos, or possibly video, demonstrating this? Do most people fall asleep before doing their business, or after? And while we're at it, how have I not yet been poached as a graphic artist by some big ad agency or something?
We runners demand answers. And pine-tree air fresheners. Please.
