Just when you think the worst can't happen...the worst happens.

As some of you already know (those of you who haven't abandoned my blog after my month-long hiatus--thanks, Mom & Dad), I planned to do a trail run this past weekend, at Pawtuckaway State Park in NH.

I did complete said run, with Jared--a man who remains, after a year of mooning, and six months of actual dating (That's right! We're dating! Me and that stone fox!) remains the most ridiculously wonderful, charming, and ludicrously sexy man I have ever seen. I don't tell you this because I'm just dizzy with love (though I am); I tell you this because it makes what occurred all the worse.

To fully capture my experience, I resorted to verse, a medium I typically scorn. (At least for my own writing--that's not to say verse as a whole is bad. Just mine.)

An Ode to Pawtuckaway

'Twas only three days ago
that I opted for a long, luscious run.
With my stellar beloved,
this was sure to be boatloads of fun.

New Hampshire's state park
slotted to be our new site
the miles to be fast--
to evade many mosquito bite.

We began at the lodge,
when a guide filled with her park power
suggested a 6-mile hike
to ye old Mountain Trail tower.

Not thinking of rain nor of mud,
nor of uphills so steep,
We laced up our shoes
to find this old keep.

Jared bolted ahead,
looking fit and so strong
while an old summer cold
left me dragging along.

Twists and turns with each path
with lush greenery exposed
But by the end of two miles
I felt somewhat hosed.

Still we trundled along,
another 1/2 mile or so
When disaster did strike--
I just had to GO.

Panic set in,
and I looked round with fear
Hoping to hold it
but knowing doom was a-near.

Jared eyed me with pity,
and a bit of a smile
and told me these words,
though I spoke my denial.

"We've all been there, my love,
we've all had to crap.
At least you're equipped
with this handy trail map."

So off he skipped away,
while singing loudly off key
as I squatted in shame
near rocks bigger than me.

Business all finished,
I called him back up the trail--
red-faced and sheepish
in front of my good handsome male.

I wondered his thoughts
as we ran back to the car,
Though only three miles,
it seemed much, much too far.

Too late then to talk
of the shouldn'ts and shoulds
when your girlfriend
has stopped to shit in the woods.


Side note: All ended well, minus the map that I was forced to leave as litter. Sorry, park ranger. So, so sorry.