What to wear

What to wear?  

One of the things I have discovered about running is that, if you want to do the hard yards, you have to know what to wear. Not in a ‘do I look good in that?’ sense, because there is no way on God’s earth that old ladies (and even young ones for that matter) will ever look good running.

No. What I mean is that that you have to know about the right clothes for the job if you want things to run smoothly.

I know what you’re thinking. . . what’s there to know?! Surely it’s all just shorts and T shirts. And more shorts and T shirts.

“Just pick a nice colour and get on with it,” you’re thinking. 

Well, that’s what I thought too. But this turns out not to be completely so! 

For a start -  what sort of shorts and what sort of T-shirt am I looking at. And do I need a jacket? With a hood? What about a thermal?. And socks? And caps. And knickers. . ., and shoes. . . . 

Phew! I can feel a shopping expedition coming on. . . 

Starting from the top and working my way down is my strategy.

At the top of the list is the cap, (or the sun visor, or headband.) After some trying on I confirm what I already knew. Head wear makes me claustrophobic and my hair is way too bushy keep the damn thing on. I decide to ditch the cap search and move happily onto T-shirts.

Sticking with the tried and true I reckon something plain and black should do the trick. But of course it’s never as easy as that.

“Do you want long sleeves or short?” Asks the sales girl assigned to my case.

Ummm. . . ?

“Or no sleeves at all?”

Uugghhh (have you seen my arms lately?)

“Do you want a fitting T shirt tight or something loose?” 

Well. . . 

“Lycra or cotton, V neck or crew?” She continues. “Fabric that breathes or fabric that absorbs the sweat.” 

“How do I decide?” I am coming out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

My usual preference is to go for sleeves because of the old lady arm issue. (I don’t know what’s behind it but for some obscure reason, when you are female, your arms will turn to flab on your 47th birthday and will get steadily worse for ever after. )

“Anything with sleeves will do,” I answer, handing something plain and black across the counter for wrapping.

That done I head for the underwear section. 

Those who have shopped for sports bras recently will have some idea how difficult the search can be. For the small-breasted women the brassiere is akin to a scarf or some dangly earrings.  A form of adornment that’s just for show. It’s all about colour and style -  not functionality. 

But for those of us who live life in the double D or even E to G-category, bra shopping is a whole different ball game. 

If you are saddled with big bazookas like I am you will need to invest in something you can trust. This bra has a job of significant importance. It will need to hold said boobs in place for the duration of your run. Bra technology has come a long way. But it’s complicated. There’s cup size. . . and back size. . . and strap size. . . And I try on 17 different models before one comes even remotely close to being a good fit. What I end up with has 16 hook and eyes and resembles a slightly discoloured medical bandage. I try not to look too longingly at the pretty little 34 AA numbers on the sales table.

“I really don’t mind what it looks like so long as it does the job,” I say to the (now) long suffering sales girl. 

She smiles.

Despite the whapping big price tag I know a good bra will be worth it in the long run. 

And once I have the ‘boosie cage’ sorted I can turn my attention to knickers. The wrong knickers have been known to trip many a girl up. And there will be no skimpy g-string for this very mature set of buttocks. I prefer to go the whole hog in the knicker department. I like ones that stretch upwards to meet the bra. Granny bloomers, the hubby calls them. 

“I’ll take as many pairs as you have in stock,” I shriek in manic excitement.

But time is marching on and I haven’t even started with the pants part yet.

Unfortunately it’s not a choice between long and short anymore because there are all manner of sizes inbetween. Like now there are 3/4 and 4/5 and 7/8 -length running pants. I kid you not. And, like T shirts, there are also fabrics galore. My eyes glaze over at the wonder of it all but my enthusiasm is definitely on the wane. Shopping for running gear has proved more tiring than running five times around the park.

That’ll do for now, I say, determined to make it out of the shop before dark.

There is still heaps more to buy, I realise.  Blimey! I haven’t even looked at shoes yet!!

But I have gone way past my word count and I reckon everyone’s had enough.

Especially me!

Guess I can revisit things next week.