I finally pooped

It was 1:30am after a grueling Day 3 on the Inca trail. I haven't pooped since day 1. I had hoped to hold it until we returned to the hotel the following night. But I knew when I crawled into my bag that this night might have other plans. It was such a strange mixture of feelings. On the one hand, there was almost an inevitability that pooping would happen this night. I was afraid if I stayed in the tent there might be an extremely embarrassing situation. On the other hand, I was freezing and I didn't want to leave the tent. I didn't want to wake up my travel companion. I was afraid that the poop might be a messy affair, and just maybe I could hold it for another day.

After hours of tossing and turning, I decided I must get up. I put my freezing FiveFingers on my already freezing feet. Upon exiting the tent, I'm greeted by the most haunting, beautiful gift of a vista. It was a clear night, the first since we had started hiking. Machu Picchu Mountain was visible bathed in silvery moonlight. In the distance were the snow capped peaks of the Andes, also reflecting the brilliance of June's supermoon. I saw constellations I've always read about but never seen: the Crab, Pegasus and his Great Square--even Orion was here! I didn't expect to see him in the Southern Hemisphere! The Big Dipper, low on the horizon and upside down, pointing towards home. And Cruz, the beautiful Southern Cross. CSN kept repeating in my head--"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time. You understand now why you came this way. The truth that you've been running from is so small, but it's as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day!" The truth is that I'm a worthwhile person.

I could've stood mesmerized there for hours, except that I had a job to do, a biological imperative.

I walked up a lonely trail to the restroom. My experience with the free restrooms on the trail was that they were nasty. This one proved to be no exception. I open the door and look in. There's shit all over the floor, but it doesn't matter. This is my destiny. There's no toilet, just a porcelain hole in the ground. I drop trou, being as careful as I can not to let my hiking pants touch the turdy tile floor. I squat slightly, with no idea what's going to happen. I'm afraid it's going to be a drawn out watery affair, and I will have to stay in this tiring squatting position a long time while my insides flush out. I'm afraid I might slip on the floor, damp with piss and excrement. I'm afraid I might miss the hole and make the room even more unsanitary. Was I standing in exactly the right position?

It was the moment of truth. In less than a minute, there was a solid compact mass of well-formed shit. It felt like a beautiful black birth. I knew in an instant that that was going to be all, and it was enough. It seemed to fall towards the porcelain hole for an eternity. And…

Bullseye.

My job done, I wipe (though I hardly had to). I open the door and walk to the hand washing station. When I'm done, I turn to revel in the light of the moon, the stars, and the promise of a coming day.