Can we engage in some potty talk for a sec? I don’t mean the actual business that goes on in a potty, but the facilities themselves. And believe me, as someone who’s run over 200 races – which means using a *porta potty at least that many times – I’ve seen some downright nasty, deplorable ones to put it nicely. *Porta john for my southern friends. A good friend of mine, whose lifelong dream was to run the NYC Marathon, when asked about the race went so far as to say her experience was tainted by a ghastly pre-race porta potty. As a professing germaphobe and one who will drive all the way home to use her own bathroom, using porta potties has not only been a test in how long one can hold her breath but also of timing and line management.
Let me also preface this whole discussion by saying that as I’ve gotten older, when nature calls I must answer and not let it roll over to voicemail.
Back when I was in peak training and still chasing a BQ, my greatest race nightmare was having to stop – for any reason – but especially for unexpected potty needs. God forbid I miss a PR because I had to stop and pee, but sadly, it’s happened. One time it was at mile 6 of Revel Canyon City Marathon. Couldn’t even wait to potentially stand in line at the next aid station which I didn’t bother to memorize where it was on course. Nope. I looked around desperately starting around mile 5 and finally spied an informal turnout with some dense forestry. I was cooking with speed at that point, marveling at the stunning mountain top vistas, anticipating an epic race, but alas, the bladder does what the bladder wants. We left our mark behind some secluded bushes – even avoided poison oak in places the sun don’t shine – and continued on to ultimately cross the finish line after a few more potty stops (not in bushes) two minutes slower than my goal time.
These days my run has to start at a location with a public restroom conveniently located steps from my car. Coffee is a runner’s two-edged sword. Non-negotiable for mental acuity, mood, speed, sanity, etc. But the benefits come at a price, thus the need for restroom accessibility on any run.
Yesterday morning I pulled into the parking lot at one of my favorite run routes. Even parked in my favorite parking spot. Can you say “creature of habit?” This particular parking lot is a fave since it has some of the cleanest restrooms not to mention they’re heated in the winter – such a strange concept having lived in California most of my life. As I started to head over to my favorite restrooms, I saw that one of the two doors had a TEMPORARILY CLOSED sign. No prob. I checked the other door which indicated it was occupied. Fortunately, this was not a DEFCON1 bladder situation, so I just did some stretches while waiting. The Carmel Parks and Recreation maintenance vehicle was parked nearby, so the staff member who saw me waiting made it a point to come out and apologize for the temporary closure as he was in the process of cleaning it as someone had had a bad accident. Now that bit of info prrrrrrobably wasn’t necessary; however, the gentleman seemed sincerely sad for the trail patron who likely had a bad burrito the night before. He continued to apologize for me having to wait as well as tell me how he wanted to make sure it was spick and span for me. I thanked him, told him how much I appreciated his efforts, and went back to my car to wait.
I checked my email, responded to some texts, then saw the Parks and Rec gentleman waving at me motioning that the restroom was now ready. I got out of my car, thanked him again, and entered the restroom. Let me tell you, that was the cleanest, freshest smelling public restroom I’d ever experienced. After doing my biz, I made it a point to tell the man the restroom was cleaner than mine at home. He looked genuinely pleased and reiterated how important it was to him that the restrooms were at their very best for folks. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone take so much pride in their work. It was actually quite touching. I told him that I hope he knows his efforts make a big difference and that he made my day. This man was literally beaming. As we said our goodbyes and I headed out onto the trail for my run, I was beaming as well. I thanked God for the opportunity to have this encounter and for blessing upon this man’s day.
During dinner, I couldn’t help but share all this with Dave. I literally had tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat as it struck me how if you didn’t know this man’s profession you’d think he was Michelangelo pouring his heart and soul into his world renown Sistene Chapel ceiling frescoes. Or that he’d just finished cleaning the restrooms in the Sistene Chapel.
Dave reminded me of this verse:
“Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.” Colossians 3:23
Funny, I just now remembered that was my life verse when I started my Masters in Education program years back. I wanted my classroom, lesson planning, teaching, and everything related to be for God’s glory. In fact, that was my whole reason for even getting a masters degree: to take my lifelong dream of being a teacher to the next level – to be the best I could be at the job God gave me. The same verse in The Message version sums it up better:
“And don’t just do the minimum that will get you by. Do your best. Work from the heart for your real Master, for God, confident that you’ll get paid in full when you come into your inheritance. Keep in mind always that the ultimate Master you’re serving is Christ.”
There have been puhhhlenty of days I felt like doing the minimum. There were days I showed up at school with a fever and hacking cough (pre-Covid times) and muddled my way through the day not because I thought I was indispensable or trying to be a hero. Have you ever had to write sub plans for a kindergarten or third grade class while you’re sick? And this is no reflection on the subs as they were terrific. It was just so much easier to go in and get through the day fueled by coffee and Tylenol. It’s probably really good I never had any surprise principal observations those days.
On the flip side, there were waaaaay more days I was the last teacher left in the building on a Friday night. Brevity is not my strong suit as you can tell if you’ve been a faithful follower of my blog. I made it a habit every Friday night, after inputting grades, to write a weekly parent newsletter. It began as a weekly recap of classroom activities and lessons, but quickly grew into an opportunity to share how God was working, answering prayers, and showing up sometimes in the most unexpected, unplanned ways. I cherished those Friday nights – somehow the excitement, busyness, stress, routines, successes, and fails of the week melted away into the keyboard. I reflected on how giving Jesus my best doesn’t mean everything ends up spick and span. Or that I PR my marathon. It was during those times alone in my classroom sitting at my desk so captivated by God’s goodness that the motion sensor would turn off the lights from my being so still. And then I’d have to stand up and flail my arms, jumping up and down to get the lights to come back on. Occasionally the night custodian would pop his head in and say “Everything okay in here, Mrs. Tang?”
Everything was just fine as I hit send on my newsletter, wrote out Monday’s lesson plans on the white board, cued up next week’s Song of the Week, straightened up rows of desks, and locked the door behind me. Another week behind and another one ahead for opportunities to give God my best.
Colossians 3:23 applies whether you’re painting the Sistene Chapel, teaching third graders, running a marathon, or cleaning a restroom. I’m thankful God knew best how to teach this lesson to me yesterday with clean, fresh perspective.
