The evening run went so well on Saturday (and I DID sleep Saturday night, too!) that I suited up for a run last night after the bedtime routine with the kiddos. I got to start the run earlier, too, since my husband has returned from his trip (welcome home, Love!) and could oversee our son who likes to avoid his bed and lurk in the halls to see what he might be missing (which is really NOTHING!).
It is a bit cool downstairs, so I like to run in pants and a sleeveless shirt on the treadmill. I find it is the right balance of warmth for me. My favorite pairs of running pants/tights are still in the stinky workout basket, awaiting their turn in the washer, so I spent a few minutes sifting through the gear in my drawer before I found a favorite pair of leggings from my dancing days (ie., from nearly 15 years ago! *gasp*). If you've been following my blog at all, you'll know that I do best when I've had a good amount of sleep and that without sleep, I tend to do things mindlessly. Sometimes I'm lucky and all goes well, other times, well . . . things go less well. Though I had one good night of sleep under my belt, I'll need at least 2 more under my belt before you can consider me rested and back to the thop of my game. These leggings have seen their fair share of blood, sweat and tears (holes, not the water-like substance that drips from eyes) - BUT, as I pulled them on, I paid no attention to the holes & the lack of rebound to the fabric after stretching them, blinded by the fact that they still fit - and off I went to pound out a few miles . . . or just one mile, as it happened.
My warm-up walk was filled with a few gentle tugs to get the leggings situated just right - the seam was twisting funny, but I coaxed it into place without too much trouble. As I picked up the pace and fell into a comfortable cadence (9:31 pace), the trouble started. The elastic in the waist band gave out completely and the elasticity that remained in the thighs sheer moments earlier when I put them on bid me farewell. Clutching my pants with one hand and swinging my remaining arm for balance, I was determined to finish my goal of 2 miles before vegging with the husband for a bit before bed. Folks, there is no WAY 2 miles could have happened, even if I was more like Deena Kastor, knocking out miles in half my usual pace. I was probably pushing it by finishing a mile.
My husband, the loving, sarcastic man that he is, offered up some lovely encouragement, "You don't have to hold them up on MY account." To which I questioned, "And just HOW would one run with their pants around their knees? I'm not holding them up for modesty here!" To which he admitted, "Ah, you have a point there. That would be significantly more difficult."
Maybe Marcy is onto something with new running gear each season. Or maybe I should just let go of this last piece of my pre-running past and splurge on a suitable pair of running tights, acknowledging that these leggings owe me NOTHING . . . and that maybe I owe THEM a trip to the trash can.
So, farewell, old friends. It is time for me to let you go. Thanks for many years of supporting me . . . may you rest in peace!