Scott Martin

I have a tiny bladder. There, I said it.

I visit the little cyclist's room at least twice in the final 15 minutes before every ride. I can barely get through a two-hour workout without a nature break. If I drink anything caffeinated beforehand, I'll be bounding into the woods more often than Bambi.

Once I tried peeing while riding, like the pros. Never again.

On my longer routes, I've scouted all the best spots for tinkle stops: hidden from view, close to the road, level terrain, firm soil (can't gum up those cleats) and -- most crucial -- no poison oak.

Bib shorts? I wish. They may be more comfy than regular shorts, but the logistics of rapid bib deployment are beyond me. Not that I should complain, being a guy. Gals, I feel your pain.

At one point I thought my condition might be prostate-related. I went to the doctor and got one of those exams, which was almost as enjoyable as doing intervals in the rain... on a Schwinn Varsity... with both brakes rubbing...

Turns out my gland is grand. So maybe the problem is simply that I drink the recommended 8, 8-ounce glasses of water daily. Or is that 16, 16-ounce glasses? Actually, it doesn't matter. Whether I drink constantly or hardly at all, I seem to go with the same flow.

The biggest challenge of this condition is convincing my impatient riding buddies to wait while I answer the call. I tell them I got yellow cycling shoes so I don't have to waste time aiming. They think I'm joking.

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Let Scott know if he's all wet (ecchh!) at scottmartin@roadbikerider.com

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