I poked my head into the lifeguard room of the private swim club.
“Would it be at all possible for me to use your bathroom, please?” I begged.
This morning, I made the same request, wearing the same apologetic, mildly embarrassed smile, trying not to lean my bike against the freshly painted wall of an elementary school.
I didn’t have much choice; nearly all the public bathrooms in Colorado Springs parks have been padlocked for years now.
Runners, especially distance runners, are like toddlers: When peristalsis of the intestinal tract makes its need evident, you gotta go. Running magazines, unfortunately, do not discuss this imperfection, beyond dark hints, about the need to watch one’s nutrition before races. But attend any marathon, and you’ll find banks of characteristic fiberglass huts at the start, and the better-organized races will have clusters every couple of miles.
Halfway through the Garden of the Gods Ten-mile in June, a line of us, anxiously awaiting our turn at the two midrace stalls and giggling in impending exhaustion, were more frank about our bodily functions than you’d imagine a bunch of grandmas could ever be.
It’s not polite conversation. So, as cities cut funding, no protesters in front of city halls waving “save our restrooms” signs are to be seen. We quietly learn to tailor our runs along the few routes where a public restroom isn’t padlocked, or past businesses that open their bathrooms to even nonpaying customers.
The first time I came across a city park bathroom with its door locked and barred, I literally beat on the door. I called the parks department the next day. A polite clerk informed me that I can always reserve a bathroom. And that’s fine if I’m organizing a soccer game, I guess. But running — or cycling — doesn’t work that way.
It isn’t just runners that need bathrooms. Small children often cannot wait; older people shouldn’t be made to wait. The nation’s first lady has rightly made the elimination of childhood obesity her cause, but it’s challenging for kids to get exercise when they can’t fully utilize city parks because the restrooms are closed.
Colorado Springs, like many cities, is facing a serious shortage of funds. Many essential services have been cut. Our city parks would be brown, were it not for the blessed rain that falls even as I type this. The arterials and freeway interchanges have darkened as a third of their lights went out. The parks have lost their trashcans. The city museums must find private funding. The loss of public bathrooms, given those other shortcomings, doesn’t seem so serious — until you need one.
But consider this: I’ve seen evidence of the American Reinvestment and Recovery Act everywhere. National parks are rebuilding visitor centers, highway construction abounds. Couldn’t some of the funds be diverted to take care of our most, er, fundamental infrastructure?
Eva Syrovy (evasyrov@msn.com) of Colorado Springs is a special education teacher at the middle school level.
