How I Got the Daisy

04.26.2010 | 1:01 am

Today, I have a story to tell about riding the White Rim last weekend. It is quite a story, featuring a mylar balloon, a brutal serial killer, explosive diarrhea, and a whimsical plush novelty daisy toy affixed to my handlebars.

It’s a good story. All of the above elements feature fairly prominently into that story. And the story is true. To entice you into reading the story, I offer the following photograph of the aforementioned daisy, attached to my aforementioned handlebars:


However, you probably noticed that “explosive diarrhea” is one of the elements in this story, and I assure you it is not a trivial element.


So, consider this fair warning. If you do not want to read a story featuring — in frank and somewhat repulsive detail — explosive diarrhea, you should skip today’s post and perhaps instead watch a video I made last year while riding the White Rim Trail. It’s a good video, and does not mention explosive diarrhea, nor any other biological disasters.

But it also does not contain a whimsical plush novelty daisy toy.

So you’ll have to weigh the pros and cons yourself, then make up your own mind. I’m not going to do your thinking for you.

And now: on with the story.

The Setup

Kenny’s RAWROD ride has grown to be something larger than a group ride. It’s an important annual event, and a lot of people show up. Enough, in fact, that it’s difficult to tell, when regrouping, when the entire group has gotten back together.

To solve this problem, Kenny had an ingenious idea: a snail necklace. Whoever was the last person in the group would have to wear a specially-constructed necklace, featuring a snail shell. If (and when) that person passed another person, s/he would hand the necklace off to the new slowest person.

Thus, when the person with the snail shell arrived at a regroup spot, we’d all know that the entire group was back together.

It’s a clever idea.

Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from Kenny, as he was driving toward Moab. “I forgot to bring the Snail Shell Necklace,” Kenny said. “Can you put something together?”

“Sure,” I said, though I was not sure at all. “As long as nobody minds that the “last rider” totem will no longer be a snail shell necklace, but will instead be something I purchase at a grocery store on the way out of town.”

Kenny agreed to this.

So, as The Runner and I bought groceries for the next day’s ride, we bought a mylar balloon, filled with helium. We figured that this, fastened to a seatpost, would be an excellent way to indicate last placemanship.

A Cry for Help

The Runner and I arrived at the campground, ate lots of brats, sat around the campfire, and generally enjoyed the RAWROD-eve atmosphere. As the night darkened and people started heading off toward their tents — what with a 6:30am start and all — The Runner and I headed to The Bikemobile; we were going back into town to stay in a hotel.

Why a hotel instead of camping? For the following excellent reasons:

  1. I don’t like camping.

We started driving down the dark, quiet dirt road back toward Moab. The cloudy sky obscured the half moon, making it so we could see little or nothing except what was lit by the headlights.

Then, suddenly, The Runner screamed in terror, jumping and grabbing my arm.

I looked ahead, then to the sides for her source of fright.


Then I checked the rear view mirror . . . and there was a head, rising slowly and ominously from the backseat, in exactly the way Jason would, if Jason decided to move to Moab and start mountain biking between killing sprees.

I jumped, intaking a (very manly) yelp.

Turns out it was the balloon.

It would be a while before our heart rates returned to normal.

A Farewell to a Serial Killer Balloon

We continued our drive toward Moab. As would not be unexpected from a couple of people who had just eaten their respective weight in bratwurst and spicy brown mustard, we had the occasional need to fart.

Excuse me, that came out wrong. I meant to say that I (and I alone) had the occasional need to fart.

As a courteous and loving husband, I would roll down the windows whenever this important biological function made itself known to me.

At one such time, as I rolled down the windows, the balloon started getting sucked outside. The Runner made a truly heroic grab and actually snagged the ribbon tied to the balloon.

The balloon, however, would not be denied. Snapping the ribbon, it shot outside.

Presumably, it is still at large, sneaking up and terrifying innocent people.

Meanwhile, we now needed to get a new “Last Rider in the Group” talisman. At 10:30 on a Friday night. Luckily, the daisy you see in the photo at the beginning of this story happened to be the first thing The Runner saw as we entered the City Market in Moab.


A Brush With Fame

The conditions for RAWROD were really about as perfect as they could be. By 8:00am, it was pleasantly warm — but not hot — and would stay that way for the rest of the day.

The Runner’s son, IT Guy, drove the first 30 miles in his truck, toting everyone’s water and food. Then he wanted a turn on his bike, so the Runner and I took a turn driving; this worked out perfect; since the Runner and I would be doing the Ironman one week from that day, we weren’t interested in biking the full 100 miles.

The Runner drove, I relaxed, amazed at how much easier it is to do the White Rim when you’re not pedaling.

Then a cyclist rode by, going fast. “How’s it going?” he said, as he went by.

Strangely, I knew the voice, and the face.

“I’m pretty sure that Tyson from Survivor just went by,” I told The Runner. Later, others would confirm it. So there you have it: Tyson is polite to strangers and is fast on his bike.

Foreshadowing at Hardscrabble

After The IT Guy took back his truck, The Runner and I got back to riding. We both marveled at the perfection of the day, how good the trail conditions were, and how much better one feels on the final third of a mountain biking century if one skips the middle third of it.

I felt strong enough, in fact, that when we got to Hardscrabble hill — one of the iconic climbs of the course — I rode nearly the entire thing, only needing to put my foot down at one point. Of course, this left me very hot and thirsty, so I refueled with an unwise number of caffeinated beverages.

“This,” I thought to myself, as I polished off my third caffeinated drink, “is unwise.”

But my tolerance for caffeine is high, and I was thirsty; I wasn’t really concerned.

I should have been concerned.

Urgency Becomes Emergency

The Runner and I pedaled along at an easy pace; our objective wasn’t to finish this 100-mile ride fast, it was to finish it comfortably and not tired. Thus, we were riding toward the back of the group, though not usually at the very back.

But I was starting to feel a little bit upset in my stomach.

We stopped to pee at one of the trailside latrines. I considered taking a little bit of extra time and pooping, but it’s just such a hassle when biking with bibshorts on.

So we kept going.

I was starting to not feel so great at all.

We rode through one of the very few (this year) sections of deep sand. I lost power and fell over. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. In fact, falling in deep soft sand is kind of awesome, because it just doesn’t hurt at all.

But as I lifted my bike back to upright, I felt something shift, and I knew that I was a bomb.

And the fuse was lit.

At an optimistic guess, I would say it was a seven-minute fuse.

“Do you remember,” I asked The Runner, casually, “whether there are any outhouses coming up?”

“No, we’ve gone by the last one,” she said.

Christmas Miracle

I tried to picture a reality in which I would not be pooping within the next three minutes. But I couldn’t imagine such a reality. As it turns out, it’s much harder to use The Secret when you have an urgent need to take a crap.

So I began to try to think of what materials I had on hand and look around for a place where I could take care of the business that an excess of caffeine had made into urgent business.

But I could tell that what I needed to do would require toilet paper. Lots and lots of toilet paper.

“Do you have lots and lots of toilet paper?” I asked The Runner.

“No, but I do have one Action Wipe,” said The Runner, helpfully.

I squirmed. This next fifteen minutes or so, I could see, was going to be a remarkably nasty episode in my life.

I looked around, more desperately, for a place to conceal myself and dig a whole. A large hole.

And then we turned a corner.

There was an outhouse. The most beautifully well-located outhouse in the entire universe.

“I’ll see you in a while,” I said to The Runner, as I broke into a sprint.

A Little Time Alone

By now you have of course figured out that I was the lucky owner of the explosive diarrhea mentioned at the beginning of this story. Which means I don’t need to go into a lot of detail except to say that if the outhouse had been another fifty feet away, this story might have had a rather horrible section where I tried to cleverly describe how I managed to clean my shorts well enough to put back on.

Instead, I get to say that I have never been so grateful for a stinky, hot, tiny room with a seat that leads to a hole in the ground.

Sadly, my business was such that it did not end quickly. Also, thanks to the vents in the outhouse, I could hear The Runner as she talked to people as they rode by:

“Go on ahead, we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Fatty’s got diarrhea, don’t wait for us.”

“Yeah, too much caffeine, he just barely made it here.”

As she talked, I stood up at least three times, thinking I was done.

And, at least three times, I quickly sat back down again. I was not done.

“Hey, are you really the last rider?” I finally heard her say. “You’d better give me that daisy.”

She continued, “No, not for me. For the guy inside.”

I began to contemplate: how would I know, for sure, when I could leave this toilet? It seemed like it would be never.

Finally, eventually, shakily, I stood up and felt like this time I really could step outside.

Kindly, The Runner had already affixed the daisy to my handlebar for me.


As we rode, the daisy looked up at me. Smilingly, encouragingly. And I, considering the disaster that could have been, smiled back. I climbed Horsethief, feeling light as a feather, and twice as relieved. (How relieved is a feather, you ask? Easy: half as relieved as I was.)

I guarantee you, had my stomach begun rumbling, I was ready to turn around and head back to that outhouse. But I made it to the finish line without needing to stop again. Last, but with my shorts unsoiled. The daisy proudly displayed.

Victory is sometimes measured in curious ways.


  1. Comment by Bicycle Bill | 04.26.2010 | 1:13 am

    Fatty, I think that daisy needs to find its way onto the next FatCyclist jersey…..

    Maybe next year, instead of the daisy, you can use one of these things…I used to know them as Cosmic Whirls. They come in red and yellow, too.

  2. Comment by Bicycle Bill | 04.26.2010 | 1:15 am

    forgot to say — click my handle to see image.

  3. Comment by Niall@Brisvegas | 04.26.2010 | 2:10 am

    Thanks for that! Made my afternoon here at work on a public holiday that I can again laugh at someone elses misfortune. Mind you, as I was reading Friday’s blog with the picture of “120 Colosimo brats, boiling in three big pots containing 30 cans of PBR, along with an onion and about a half cup of Worcestershire sauce in each pot” I had a bad feeling that you weren’t just going to have a bit of gas. There ain’t nothing like a good feeling of “relief”.

  4. Comment by Jacqui_in_Brissy | 04.26.2010 | 3:10 am


  5. Comment by buckythedonkey | 04.26.2010 | 5:13 am

    Nothing beats a good poo story, although bibshorts don’t hold a candle to brand new, one-piece motorcycle leathers in the “things not to be wearing when you urgently have to park one” category.

  6. Comment by Shiny Flu | 04.26.2010 | 5:39 am


    Can’t stop laughing. Although what’s disturbing me more is associating daisies with you. Doing a number 2. In bib shorts.

    I think I need therapy.

  7. Comment by Mandy | 04.26.2010 | 6:17 am

    I laughed out loud at the Runner telling people, “Oh no, go ahead, we are going to be here a while.” And the daisy is awesome – that should be the thing from now on.

  8. Comment by skippy | 04.26.2010 | 6:21 am

    Interesting story, could be the “Brats/brown sauce getting back at you for the photo!Boy Scout motto “Be Prepared” so include photo of item you will need for “ironman” next weekend!
    Good Luck/Bon chance!64283239-windows photo gallery

  9. Comment by skippy | 04.26.2010 | 6:23 am

    sorry delete the item as “Rubber Ducky with Horny” did not transfer!Will add to my blog for those interested!

  10. Comment by Wendy | 04.26.2010 | 7:05 am

    I’m going to leave the “White Rim” joke to someone else.

  11. Comment by Weiland | 04.26.2010 | 7:09 am

    With the poop and fart jokes I think people might have missed your cry for help: “since the Runner and I would be doing the Ironman one week from that day, we weren’t interested in biking the full 100 miles.” Fatty, you passed on the full ride for a tri? If that isn’t a cry for help I don’t know what is, next thing we’ll be reading about is how you are saving 10 seconds in your morning transition by not putting on socks for work. My friend you need help.

  12. Comment by Jeff | 04.26.2010 | 7:18 am

    I have so many comments coming to mind, but I only have time to post one.

    You are so going to get cited for littering thanks to that mylar balloon.

    Then your explosive diarrhea will become a part of the public record.

  13. Comment by skippy | 04.26.2010 | 7:36 am

    Some of the people reading my “comments” arrived before i added “Rubber Ducky”!
    Didn’t realise “Skippy’s fan club” was in overdrive!

  14. Comment by Megan (Best of Fates) | 04.26.2010 | 7:42 am

    This post is brilliant – clearly more stories need to combine diarrhea and flowers.

  15. Comment by SuomiTri | 04.26.2010 | 7:44 am

    gross. can’t wait for the “i pooped my shorts during the ironman and had excrement running down my leg” post-race write-up…

  16. Comment by Drdave | 04.26.2010 | 7:56 am



  17. Comment by MattC | 04.26.2010 | 8:02 am

    Ahhhh bib short stories…just started wearing my first set a few months ago. I thought they were the best thing since sliced bread…at least until my own uhmm…errr…ordeal on the road a few weeks ago. And there would be no outhouse either. Turns out that under those curcumstances, bibs SUCK big-time! Only a suit of armor (or motorcycle leathers..thanks Bucky!) could possibly be worse. Interesting how you never hear Phil/Paul/Bobke takling about this important drawback of certain riding attire. NOW I know why some guys take SO LONG in the outhouse at events. What we need are velcro (or some other quick-disconnect) device in the straps. THAT would be the ticket! Anyway….glad you were able to enjoy bringing up ‘the rear’! One of the simple pleasures in life…a well placed outhouse.

  18. Comment by plum | 04.26.2010 | 8:06 am

    Fatty – best post in a really long time, maybe ever. Great job. I almost pooped reading it.

  19. Comment by fult23 | 04.26.2010 | 8:06 am

    I think the people in the office next to me are wondering what is going on. That was one of the funniest things I have ever read. Thank you; I really needed that.

  20. Comment by VT_Rob | 04.26.2010 | 8:18 am

    As we say in my house…”Nothing is funnier than poop.” Thanks for the great story!

    And Tyson from Survivor is a former European road pro. I forget the details, but I Googled him the first time he was on the show and they listed his occupation as “Professional Cyclist”.

  21. Comment by roan | 04.26.2010 | 8:23 am

    Fatty, there you go…blame it on the caffeine, we all saw the brats in the earlier post what could be wurst.
    A daisy for the last pansy…nice. Well at least THIS time you came out smelling like a rose…ah, I better nip this is the bud…BUD !
    Good luck with the ironMAN, I’ve learned “your” lessons well…thanks.

  22. Comment by Mike Roadie | 04.26.2010 | 8:45 am

    So, so, so funny!!!!

    You are the daisy-Ironman!

  23. Comment by R. Mandos | 04.26.2010 | 9:03 am

    Glad to hear some being honest about their retarded cycling-related dietary misadventures. I have some stories about “transit time” I’m saving for the grandchildren.

  24. Comment by Jenn | 04.26.2010 | 9:03 am

    It is a rare individual who can tell a poo story more funny than gross. Well done!

  25. Comment by Cyclin' Missy | 04.26.2010 | 9:06 am

    I would have been happy as a clam! The luck of the trail truly shined upon you!

  26. Comment by Niall@Brisvegas | 04.26.2010 | 9:10 am

    Sorry guys but motorcycle leathers are a breeze compared to being fully kitted up in a a three-layer NBC suit including respirator and Camelbak. First layer unzips (hood too) but before that you have to remove your tight rubber gloves. The second layer includes a hood which has a tight rubber seal but then you need to open a shoulder zip – very hard when you are in a hurry – pull it forwards over your head and get arms throught very tight rubber seals at the wrist. After that it is the full length charcoal undersuit. Took me nearly 12 minutes the first time. Wouldn’t have been good with explosive diarrhea!

  27. Comment by NIck - Seattle | 04.26.2010 | 9:14 am

    Fatty – I bet it was the Brats not the caffeine – same thing happended to me last yr at Gooseberry. I was also saved by an outhouse.

    Sounds like a good ride.

  28. Comment by bikemike | 04.26.2010 | 9:17 am

    Holy crap! Funny story.

  29. Comment by T Foster | 04.26.2010 | 9:47 am

    Maybe the daisy can make it to the 4 LIVESTRONG Challenges and be handed to the last “Fatty” century rider.

  30. Comment by McBain_v1 | 04.26.2010 | 9:48 am

    There is something about cycling energy foods that encourages the “turbo turd”, and bib shorts can rapidly become an environmental hazard in such situations. If wearing bibs always make sure that your top has a full-length zip to allow a rapid exit from shorts, before the “turbo turd” makes its own rapid exit :-(

  31. Comment by Tony | 04.26.2010 | 9:49 am

    I think I “sharted” reading this. Absolutely hilarious.

  32. Comment by Weaky6 | 04.26.2010 | 9:52 am

    Please, please, please put the daisy on your tri bike for our viewing pleasure. Aerodynamics really won’t matter anywaysssssss! And fellow fatty fans will be able to spot you more easily. I did laugh out loud on this one. First time ever for your post.

  33. Comment by Philly Jen | 04.26.2010 | 9:53 am

    Wow. Gives a whole new meaning to “fresh as a daisy”…

  34. Comment by Lori Scheel | 04.26.2010 | 9:56 am

    I laughed so hard I had to excuse myself…well, you know why! Thanks for making my daisy :)

  35. Comment by brian | 04.26.2010 | 10:02 am

    A few weeks ago I lost my dignity. I experienced some of the same elements as your story, except there was no outhouse and not even the single wipe. I was about 2 minutes from the end of the ride when the lighted fuse blew.

    The sad thing is that when I was there trying to as you say “clean my shorts well enough to put back on”, I thought if Fatty blogged about the same thing happening to him maybe, maybe I could regain a little dignity or at least feel better that a beloved famous cycling blogger has as little dignity as me.

    Today I thought perhaps my dignity was to be restored, but alas, I remain alone in the anals of un-dignity.

    I suppose the only saving factor is the next group of bikers didn’t come along before I mostly got my shorts back on…

    heheh. You said “anals” of un-dignity. Best typo ever. – FC

  36. Comment by mark | 04.26.2010 | 11:27 am

    There’s only one race that matters at RAWROD: first one in line at the outhouse. Which is why I was off the front early. And very grateful for your wet wipe thingy when I got there.

  37. Comment by brian | 04.26.2010 | 11:29 am

    Wasn’t a typo – glad I could return a laugh back your way now I owe you something like 1000 more.

    By the way, the location of said lost dignity was Lambert Park.

  38. Comment by Linda | 04.26.2010 | 11:39 am

    funny…but I still don’t believe Tyson is a nice guy..just sayin

  39. Comment by AngieG | 04.26.2010 | 11:45 am

    Perfect Monday post!

    As gross as it is, there really isn’t anything much funnier than a good story about crap.

    Glad the Potty Fairy blessed you with the outhouse just in the nick of time.

    Sounds like your combination of Brats and Caffine might be a great substitute for that god awful concoction they make you drink before a colonoscopy.

    At least you can say your squeaky clean now!

  40. Comment by sandy | 04.26.2010 | 12:22 pm

    Whats the difference between a girl and a guy (besides the obvious) you ask? A girl will go to any extent to hide the fact that she has explosive diarrhea and a guy will share it with world! Thanks for sharing Fatty.

  41. Comment by Clydesteve | 04.26.2010 | 12:51 pm

    if it were reallt caffine that had that effect, my morning commute would always be punctuated with disasster.

    misspelling props to Brian

  42. Comment by Clydesteve | 04.26.2010 | 12:55 pm

    Oh, BTW, BSNYC has an article reviewing Portland, OR as a cycling city in the latest Outside magazine.

  43. Comment by FliesOnly | 04.26.2010 | 12:57 pm

    Been there…done that. I knocked people out of my way as I ran [with clenched butt cheeks] towards a restroom after riding about 20(road) miles with an “upset” stomach. Never eat under-cooked chicken while on an 100 mile bike ride.

  44. Comment by VA Biker | 04.26.2010 | 1:10 pm

    That was a story full of suspense that everyone can relate to indeed. That could have been a LOT more “ewwwy” than it was; glad you made it through unscathed (at least physically).

  45. Comment by Nancy Peacock | 04.26.2010 | 1:29 pm

    I laughed so hard my family is questioning my sanity.
    Great story, Fattie.
    Glad you made it to the finish line…fresh as a daisy!

  46. Comment by Jenni Laurita | 04.26.2010 | 1:35 pm

    No, that daisy should not be brought anywhere nor given to anyone. I am not touching it no. matter. what.

    The snail necklace idea is brilliant.

  47. Comment by Rick Sunderlage (not my real name) | 04.26.2010 | 1:44 pm

    Think how nice that daisy would have felt instead of that cheap toilet paper.

  48. Comment by Tim | 04.26.2010 | 1:44 pm

    This is truly the funniest thing I have read in months and months. Superb!

  49. Comment by Snoopie | 04.26.2010 | 3:58 pm

    I had a friend ask if I had any $1 bills on our last ride. He was in a dilemma similar to yours. I told him I didn’t have any singles and asked why. His reply, “All I have is $20’s and I don’t want to use them to wipe”

  50. Comment by Kathleen@ForgingAhead | 04.26.2010 | 5:30 pm

    That story is awesome in so may ways. Love the daisy and thank goodness for miracle outhouses!

  51. Comment by Kermitsgirl | 04.26.2010 | 5:47 pm

    Dare I say it…Brownrim, me thinks…(hehehe!)

    Oh my God, I just can’t stop laughing!!!!!!!!
    Priceless story and awesome comments…I LOVE this blog!! For evermore Brats and daisies will remind me of you! (or is that poo)

  52. Comment by Moe | 04.26.2010 | 6:28 pm

    Fatty, I have to say that I was starting to get a little bored with your posts lately. Not anymore, this post fixes the boredom. Thanks for the awesome post!

  53. Comment by Peter | 04.26.2010 | 8:23 pm

    Not the lanterne rouge, but une rouge pâquerette de explosif derriere! (roughly “the red daisy of explosive ass”)

    Thought of you while I rode the Monument in Fruita while you were doing RAWROD.

  54. Comment by Sara | 04.26.2010 | 9:16 pm

    I knew it would be a good one when I read the warning…..It’s just that I feel really sorry for the next person who had to use the outhouse without a warning. WTF (Wow That’s Funny!!)

  55. Comment by Anonymous | 04.26.2010 | 9:32 pm

    OH WOW. OH MY. I’m SO thankful I wasn’t at work when I read that because I laughed hysterically for about 10 minutes straight. And then I giggled for another 5. And then I’d go a couple minutes and break out in more hysterical giggles. OMW! That is hilarious! I LOVE the daisy. So cute. Also, note to self: make sure you do not drink a lot of caffeinated beverages on long hot rides. :) I have a sensitive digestive system and am certain I would suffer the same fate. We don’t have many, if any outhouses where I ride, so the alternative would be, well, not pretty. :)

  56. Comment by AK Chick | 04.26.2010 | 9:34 pm

    Oops – I was so overcome by giggling that I didn’t fill in any of my identifying info. :) Done. Back to more snickering.

  57. Comment by AK Chick | 04.26.2010 | 9:45 pm

    Also, sorry for the THIRD post, though since the first was “Anonymous” it doesn’t count in the total right? :) Please bring the Daisy to Austin! :) I might have to go really really slow that I can have it on my bike when I finish. :)

  58. Comment by Susan | 04.26.2010 | 10:08 pm

    Best story ever — thanks for at least one good laugh this week! (Been there, done that – not on a bike & I’m never sharing the story. You’re a good guy.)

  59. Comment by Waterlilykari | 04.26.2010 | 10:43 pm

    All I can say is in my own respective “learning experience” years ago is thank god for steep embankments blocked by lots of trees, and a very patient riding coach. Hehehe. Lesson to learn from this: when the say carbs are good pre-race that doesnt include breakfast sausages in a sandwich in the hotel buffet was a bad idea, especially when combined with a cup of burnt coffee. (just trust me when I say this was still better than the alternative breakfast options)

  60. Comment by Team Coffee Nook | 04.26.2010 | 11:32 pm

    The urge to purge cannot be denied.

  61. Comment by Betsy | 04.27.2010 | 12:58 am

    Funniest thing I have read all day!

  62. Comment by Susie | 04.27.2010 | 2:14 am


  63. Comment by KathyE | 04.27.2010 | 9:04 am

    Better out than in I always say!

  64. Comment by Philly Jen | 04.27.2010 | 11:04 am

    Daisy, Daisy,
    Give me your answer true
    I’m half crazy
    ‘Cuz I can’t find a loo
    I just had a stylish marriage
    Complete with two-wheeled carriage
    But my new wife
    Will run for her life
    If my bike shorts are filled with poo!

    BTW, Surly already named one of their bike colors “Curry Squirt.” Perhaps you could persuade them to add a new shade, “Bratwurst-Case Scenario.”

  65. Comment by Todd | 04.27.2010 | 11:36 am

    Forgive me, I have been unfaithful and strayed, I just came back and was reminded why I love this blog. So funny, real and I thought, the whole time, omg that could be me…

  66. Comment by Barbara | 04.27.2010 | 12:32 pm

    PhillyJen, your creativity is awesome! I’m so glad I’m on your Fatty team.

  67. Comment by nbronb | 04.27.2010 | 1:50 pm

    Finally, someone telling real stories about the realities of cycling. Having “been there, done that” sometimes successfully and sometimes not, I can relate to this experience. We can only laugh and say “There but by the grace of God, go I”.

    Thanks Fatty. Hope your next ride is as eventful, but for other reasons.

  68. Comment by GJ Jackie | 04.27.2010 | 3:29 pm

    HOW cool is The Runner, staying close by Fatty through all those outhouse explosions?

    Cue the music, “Stand by your man….after all, he’s just a man.”

  69. Comment by Heidi | 04.27.2010 | 5:34 pm

    One word: Charcoal. My honey learned about it years ago when he was in the Peace Corps in Africa. It’s available in health food stores in capsule form. One capsule for gas; two capsules for, well, plugging things up. (A burnt piece of toast will do in a pinch, too). Charcoal: Don’t leave home without it. And tell The Runner she’s welcome.

  70. Comment by vito | 04.28.2010 | 4:43 am

    There is nothing left to say…What a great story!
    I will, from now on, definitely be more careful about what I consume before and during a long ride.

  71. Comment by Cindy | 04.28.2010 | 10:25 am

    Too funny. First a blue cruiser with a white basket and tassels on the Lance Ride at the Ride for the Roses and now a daisy. I think I sense a trend :)

  72. Comment by John "The Man" | 04.29.2010 | 1:24 pm


    I read this cause my girlfriend told me she snotted on the computer screen while trying not to laugh at work and let on that she might be doing something other than her job. I took a read and very much enjoyed your story. I wanted to pass along something from my Dad. He grew up in Colombia and rode bikes in the mountains. They had a way to let the people watching bike races know who was the last to pass, they used something called “El Farolito”. It was a take off on a Christmas tradition and was simply a lantern that was lit and attached to the seat post of the last rider to signal announce the final rider. Thought it might work for you if the flower bails the way of the balloon. Depending on how much gas you were expelling near the open flame, it might provide extra motivation.

  73. Comment by Allison- South Florida | 04.29.2010 | 6:49 pm

    Although your explosive diarrhea story had me laughing outloud, I have to say the side story on the “killer” mylar balloon had me laughing/crying so hard I couldn’t see. Reminded me of a mtn. biking trip I took to Arizona with my husband 7 years ago. We were taking a site-seeing drive one night up a very deserted, scary mountain and were getting more and more spooked the further we got from civilization. I told him that I wasn’t comfortable and that I’d like to go back. He agreed and began to turn the car around in a tight space. I suddenly got the bright idea to let out a blood curdling scream to see what he would do. Well, my husband returned the same deafening “girl” scream back to me, snapping his head back and forth looking for an ax wielding killer while flooring the gas, and almost driving off a cliff. Once the dust settled and I realized we weren’t going to die, I could not stop laughing. I’ll never be able to forget that scream! Needless to say, he doesn’t like me to repeat this story.


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