(no photos for this one.... trust me)
Mark had running school this morning.
This means he got up bright and early for speed work with Pat Carroll and his groupies. It also means I sleep in a bit and then run to where he parked the car, swap shoes and get work clothes and walk to work. great fun. Mark is happy (he's a social runner) and I'm happy (I run aloooone...cue in guitar).
I'm also happy because not one bit of the run had any pain. Okay, so it's 5 km to work. Just a shade under a marathon. Still. It means I'm feeling positive. I bound my knee, had the pod, had the support socks for post run (see, basic math tells me those are cheaper than skins), I was all over it.
Walked to work feeling smug and listening to David Sedaris (I really think humor essays might be the new black). I might have even had a bit of a Travolta circa 1978 strut. I was ready to kick booty, patootie!
I got to my building and to my locker. Got my shampoo, soap and razor out, then unpacked my clothes. ....then I deflated.
I always forget a bra. I'm not endowed enough to need one. Don't give me any crap about sagging. When your skin loses its elasticity, there is nothing you can do about it. A bra won't keep them up. Luckily my skin is still tight enough for what I have. I hold no pencils! I ran 6 years of x-c without a bra. Tried to wear one once and during the race it came off and is somewhere at Norbuck Park in east Dallas.
Now I wear one for running. But rarely any other time unless the shirt is such that the nippiebits can be seen. I'm nothing if not classy!
I was wondering what to do when I saw it
The tape I sometimes use to bind my knee.
So two wee strips later, the nips are safely tucked away.
I don the shirt and see that due to wrinkling, I now have four nipples and I seem very cold. This won't do. I look around. I'm alone. I take my hands and press as hard as I can. This is not sexy. This is not hot. This is trying not to get in trouble in a government job because I have too many nipples and not enough bras.
Ha! Wrinkle free. ...and who's going to be looking?
Mark doesn't know about this yet. I was going to come home and take them off after putting olive oil on the tape (yeah, not risking nip-rippage just to look decent at work) and I thought better of it.
It's not uncomfy. Let's just spend the evening like this. Then...
I shall take off my shirt and shout, "RELEASE THE GIRLS!"
Who said running can't make your whoopwhoop life more fun?*
This was an odd day of blogging for me. In this one I wrote about me jubblybit and here
I wrote about my pannies. I may have gone too far.