Thursday, April 27, 2006
Addicted to crack.
So I must admit that this running business isn't the bain I thought it might be. As a former competitive swimmer, I appreciate a sport with so little 'equipment'. I find that I excell at sports that don't have props. When you put mits, balls and protective gear in the mix, I'm at a loss.
I need so little in the way of 'gear' to do this whole thing, that I hardly have an excuse not to. Shorts, shoes, coushy socks, sports bra, pedometer, iPod and the open road. (P.S. How did anyone ever run before without an iPod or some portable music device? Besides, I think the on-coming drivers appreciate my lip synch and muted choreography.)
The one thing, however, that has put a moneywrench into this is: my undies. Who knew that making your legs go back and forth faster than a normal walk makes your otherwise sedentary skivvies beat a hasty retreat into your asscrack? While the aforementioned on-coming drivers get to see my sweet dance-moves-while-running, the drivers approaching from the rear get to see me gracefully attempt to remove the offending article of clothing from its crevase. Seriously, I feel like I'm breaking up a budding friendship between my underwear and my small intestines. (Was that too much information? Did I go too far?)
I figure I could go to a desigated running store and inquire about some runner's unders, but that may constitute 'gear'. And I find those places so intimidating to me, the newest member of the athletic community. But they have to sell something for this, right? I can't be the only one with Chronic Runner's Wedgie, can I? I shudder to think that runners have been going commando all this time.
Maybe I should beat the undies at their own game and wear a thong. A-HA!! You got no where to creep to now, underwear!
I need so little in the way of 'gear' to do this whole thing, that I hardly have an excuse not to. Shorts, shoes, coushy socks, sports bra, pedometer, iPod and the open road. (P.S. How did anyone ever run before without an iPod or some portable music device? Besides, I think the on-coming drivers appreciate my lip synch and muted choreography.)
The one thing, however, that has put a moneywrench into this is: my undies. Who knew that making your legs go back and forth faster than a normal walk makes your otherwise sedentary skivvies beat a hasty retreat into your asscrack? While the aforementioned on-coming drivers get to see my sweet dance-moves-while-running, the drivers approaching from the rear get to see me gracefully attempt to remove the offending article of clothing from its crevase. Seriously, I feel like I'm breaking up a budding friendship between my underwear and my small intestines. (Was that too much information? Did I go too far?)
I figure I could go to a desigated running store and inquire about some runner's unders, but that may constitute 'gear'. And I find those places so intimidating to me, the newest member of the athletic community. But they have to sell something for this, right? I can't be the only one with Chronic Runner's Wedgie, can I? I shudder to think that runners have been going commando all this time.
Maybe I should beat the undies at their own game and wear a thong. A-HA!! You got no where to creep to now, underwear!
# posted by Cathy @ 7:51:00 PM 
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Dont even GET me started. I have one pair of body by victoria granny panties that stays put, but everything else creeps towards my inner organs after 5 minutes. I'm thinking about breaking down and going to a running store. Hopefully they wont yell FRAUD at me.
I wear the shorts with the undies already in them. Kinda like going commando, kinda like wearing boy swimtrunks. Try them they don't do the ass crack thing.
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