It unfolded exactly as it had in my nightmare. I pressed down the lever again. This time the bowl began to fill, pushing the wadded up toilet paper closer to the rim of the toilet. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” I said to the line of shivering runners who were waiting behind me. “But it seems the toilet is stopped up.” I considered explaining how nervous constipation had kept me from contributing to the plumbing problem, but decided in the end to keep that part to myself. Below the concrete slab I could hear pipes groaning. The urinal on the wall started gurgling. In the women’s room next door I could hear toilets as they continued to flush. That’s when the drain on the floor came alive. The nightmare had reached its crescendo. “It’s a stopped sewer line! Stop flushing!” I yelled. I went out and found the RD, John Kilpatrick. “I’ve got some crappy news for you,” I said, and then I told him the news about the bathrooms next to the race...
Because "also ran" was already taken