While I was running and losing 100 lbs. of water weight a minute, I finally understood why world class runners wear the equivalent of a sports bra and tight underwear to run. And as my own shorts bunched up between my fat, sweaty thighs, I wished I had those to run in too. (Well, I also wished for smaller thighs but I can buy the first and neither love nor money seems to be providing the second). Sadly, without the thinner thighs (amongst other body parts), the running underwear outfit is not an option. Just the thought of my wobbly, undulating stretch marks on display for the entire neighborhood to see is giving me an optical illusion headache. On the plus side, my bunched up and uncomfortable shorts caught a lot of sweat and kept it from running down into my socks. Yes, appealing, isn't it? Running can take you right back to childhood and wetting your pants. Such a charming trip down memory lane.
I did have a few moment on the run that shouldn't have been and ultimately didn't last very long though. Some neighbors lost trees in the last nasty set of storms and they've had someone come out, take them completely down, and grind the stumps. So a brief close of the eyes and the smell of freshly sawn wood transported me immediately to the the cottage up north where summer running is dreamy and cool. Totally lovely. Then the heat radiating up off the road, the sweat running down my spine, the sunscreen leaking into my burning eyes, and the bunched up, wet shorts brought me right back down here to the sunny south. Maybe tomorrow I'll be smart enough to stay out of bed until *after* I've run!