I can't tell you how many times I've planned an IBA ride and had intestinal terror. Don't know how else to say it. This is a problem if the ride is more than one 24 hour day. If you aspire to Long Distance, Iron Butt type riding be advised.

You have been at work all week getting ready for the ride by eating lightly and, conscious of the need to crap, drinking lots of fluid. You eat a mix of grains and leafy greens and load the tank bag with trail mix and jerky and protein bars cut into convenient squares. The plumbing is working smoothly. The night before departure you get a wee bit tense with anticipation, and your asshole slams shut.

It's now Zero dark thirty and you get your witness form signed and get the first gas receipt. Log it in the book and off you go. Your gut feels a little full.

You are maintaining above the needed moving average as traffic is light and you begin to sip from your hydration device and by the first gas stop you feel the urge to urinate so you have a few minutes in the restroom - and piss. Your gut still feels full as you roll onto the freeway for your next waypoint. The sun is coming up and the natural cue stimulates a little hunger so you gnaw on some jerky and wash the saltiness down with some water. In an hour the jerky has expanded in your gut and you are no longer hungry; you are uncomfortable.

Of course the commuters in the town you have ridden into are fired up and sensing you are from out of town gang up on you. And you get a little more tense. Knowing tension will wear you out, you force yourself to relax and make time out of the congestion and away from the city. You sip on more water and surveying your self decide all is well, the ride is going better than planned, and you settle in for the slog.

About the time you hit your first steep mountain pass with tight twisty bits and trucks almost stopped in the slow lane you feel a gas bubble. You'd like to lift a cheek and let it blow but the demands of riding this section require physical control of your bike more than normal so you hang onto the gas and hope for a straight bit. It does not come for two miles and by that time the gas has retreated into your intestine. All is forgotten. You colon feels more full but your belly begins to ask for some nourishment so you pop in a square of protein bar and soften it with some water.

At the next gas stop you take time for a piss and to reload your hydration bag. Your gut is rumbling as you have your piss so you stop mid stream and dive for the stall that just came vacant, doff your Roadcrafter, and hope for the best. The only thing that escapes is the fart you stuffed back inside 50 miles ago - and it reeks.

Back on the road and you start nibbling jerky - you are feeing hungry, real hungry, and kind of stuffed at the same time. Matter of fact your riding gear feels a tad bit tight and it is getting warmer as the sun has risen fully. You sip on some water. Checking your GPS you note that the ride is going well as your moving average is better than needed, and your stopped time is minimal. You really want to have a crap.

Out on the open road, with time to spare, you take a break in a rest area. Sip water, eat some trail mix, have a piss and blow another fart strong enough to crack porcelain. Good thing they use stainless steel, you say to yourself, as you try to avoid the stare of the 6 year old who watches you escape the restroom. You stretch out on a picnic table top to relax for 5 minutes but you can't because your gut aches. So, back on the bike - check the averages, and head out for the next waypoint.

In 30 minutes you are heading into the rush of a large city and it has begun to rain moderately. The strategy is to ride the HOV lane through town and get gas on the far side, but somebody has wrecked up ahead and the traffic has slowed to a clutch hand numbing crawl. Motorists are lane changing in desperation for some forward momentum, and then it happens. You get that clammy feeling, and begin to sweat, and your bowel begins to spasm.

You have just been given the 2 minute warning and there is nowhere to go.