How is it that when I walk my dog, I pick up after her. Yet, when I ride my cyclocross bike on the trails near my home, I constantly navigate around the toppling horseshit mounds, many of which take up most of the single-track. Maybe I should appreciate these additions to the technical nature of the workout at hand, but instead I’m overwhelmed by the inequity of it all.
To horseriders out there: I pick up after my dog, who makes small, contained cupcakes of poop, while you allow those family-sized servings of grassy meatballs to remain where they land. Would it be so hard to climb off your high horses and, maybe with a camping shovel, put the crap in a bag to carry away, or at least fling it in the bushes?