So lets talk clothes.
I love clothes.
My husband loves clothes.
After cleaning my sons closet yesterday it's apparent he has inherited this love of fashion.
If you would have asked me before I started running what I thought "Athletic Fashion" was, I would have shown you my favourite episode of 'Malcolm in the Middle'.
In this episode, the dad (Bryan Cranston) takes up speed walking, and dons a leotard and colour coordinated aerodynamic helmet that kinda looks like a sperm.
Hilarious.
Another example I have are my cousin's.
They are very elite bike riders, and do a huge ride for charity every year.
They even have the shoes that lock into the pedals. Hardcore.
They ride hundreds of kilometres on these bikes, the ones with the itty bitty tires and the equally small, ass violating seats.
I had never seen them in their riding gear, but let me tell you....somethings you can't unsee....
M, is a medium build guy, mostly suit wearing.
Prior to this I had never seen him in anything more revealing than a t-shirt, and considering the fur body sweater he wears year round, there was not that much actual skin showing..
He sauntered out on to the deck in what was essentially a unitard of spandex, his wall to wall carpeting billowing in the wind like a field of hairy grass.
I tried very hard to maintain eye contact, but the prison guard training took over, and I ended up looking for contraband in the short shorts.
Don't mistake my intentions here folks, I love my husband very very much, but I am a trained observer.
I have just been trained to look for people concealing objects, and it looked like M was smuggling fruit across the border, and doing a terrible job at it.
(Hopefully this doesn't make it too awkward around the Thanksgiving Day table...)
L's outfit was better, probably because she doesn't impersonate a Grizzly bear when wearing shorts.
I really liked her shirt, it had these built in pockets on her back, very efficient.
The shorts were, however, very...athletically specific shall we say.
Long distance riding is very hard on your lady bits, she explained, and so ladies shorts have a padded gusset.
(Just so you know, I really hate the word 'gusset'. Its like nails on a chalkboard.)
It kinda looked like she had a small pillow sewn to her ass. Weird.
My point is that even though some of these clothes look ridiculous, and leave NOTHING to the imagination, they have a function to the athlete.
When I started running, my clothes were primarily used to hide my jiggling. The largest T-shirts, the biggest hoodies, and my pregnancy yoga pants.
I looked longingly at "learn to run Barbie", the tiny chick in my learn to run class who NEVER wore a sports bra, was always wrapped in low cut culty spandex from head to toe, and whose ass looked like it was carved out of granite.
It didn't even move when she ran. W...T...F...!!!!
(It is my personal opinion that in order to do one of these beginner classes, you should look like a beginner, be jiggly, and sweat profusely while wheezing curse words, not look like a Sports Illustrated model.)
Each week I would have to stare at Granite Ass while I jiggled and sweated out hundreds of terrible food choices from the past 15 months. It felt like I walked out of a sauna every time I went running. It wasn't pretty, and sure didn't smell so great either.
Turns out I was wearing all the wrong stuff. Wrong materials that is.
So I began my collection of new clothes for running. Oh darn, clothes shopping...say it ain't so. ;)
The great thing about running clothes is they are unabashedly crazy.
Like 1980's colour schemes on speed.
Reflective stripes, mesh details, fancy pockets.
And NOTHING left to the imagination.
Camel toe avoidance had never been on my mind more.
My first pair of running pants, or tights, were skin tight. Like you could feel the pattern on my granny panties tight. I felt naked. Nothing like feeling like you are running naked beside Granite ass. Every bulge, roll and orange peel looking inch of my ass and thunder thighs was squeezed into these suckers, and I was going to RUN in them?
Think running in a pair of panty hose. Crotch slipping to your knees, elephant ankles, and the dreaded butt crack hanging out. Lucky for me I was wearing a long shirt. I put serious thought into wearing Mike's suspenders to hold them up. I exchanged them instead. Turns out I was a size smaller. :)
The sheer amount of clothing you need to go running is bonkers.
I have a fuel belt, this water bottle, cell phone holder hot pink belt that sits under my boobs.
You need the high end technical fabric everything. Don't even think of wearing a cotton t-shirt.
You'll get laughed out of your running class, and you'll likely freeze to death in the winter.
This fabric wicks moisture, keeps your skin cool, keeps your ass from looking like a water bed and has vents to air out your junk. Some of them have wind proof seams and water resistance.
My pants have more jobs than most adults I know.
I now have a whole drawer of slippery skin tight fabric in eye piercing colours, and I am always on the lookout for more.
I really do love them.
I slide on my tights, my hot pink shirt and shoes and fuel belt, my neck warmer (or Buff, like from Survivor) and put on my running music.
Its taken me 10 weeks but I finally look and FEEL like someone who runs.
And it feels great.
