Sunday 10 May 2015

A sweaty beef tomato on a panting hippo body

Running's pretty sexy. So they say. All hot pants and crop-tops, swishy ponytails, single beads of (probably sugar sweet) sweat, fluttering eyelashes, long toned limbs loping along like a rippling race horse.

I thought it must happen from the very first step. The sexiness. Turns out it's a lie. 

Running might lead to sexiness...but the actual running? No. Doesn't work out like that for me. On almost all counts...

Hot pants? This is a no go. This I found out for myself long ago, unfortunately, but my kind auntie offered the knowledge, a very auntie like piece of advice, I think - one of those things you really need to know (if you don't already) but that you'd only really get from a mum/sister/auntie, or maybe a best friend, but less likely. 

"Chaffing" she said. "Chub rub?" I said. "Yes, I know chub rub..."

Unfortunately not just in running related incidents, but I'll stick with them. Chub-rub is why I wear leggings and not shorts. When I was on holiday, going for an early morning run (I knew about chub rub already, but had somehow convinced myself that early morning, warm weather running, along a beach in tropical climes would surely be so much like the sexy advert running I could do it in shorts and a vest. after maybe half a mile I was running like I was riding a tiny imaginery horse. Or had developed some kind of worrying pathological gait. People might have thought I'd suffered a small mid run stroke. It was unpleasant. And sore, really sore, which is difficult on a hot holiday. You have to learn to tie a sarong like a giant baggy nappy, or not be out of the pool long enough for the natural gliding powers of water to wear off. Or wear trousers (this last is probably kindest to society).

I should have known better. I won't be wearing shorts in Edinburgh.

I am starting to worry about all the mentions of "bodyglide" in the half-marathon tips I read...I'll see how I go in the 12 miles, apart from my feet towards the end of the biggies I don't think I've had any "gliding" problems, but maybe 12 will be a few steps too far. Investment in ShockAbsorber "Run" bras has taken care of the boob-blisters problem from a couple of years ago (thank goodness) but the bottom end of the (r)underwear situation remains unsolved. But not urgent. Don't worry. Or think about it anymore...I'm sorry.

"Swishy" ponytails...I've started growing my hair again after chopping it off in a moment of boredom last year. I'm getting married next year (still getting used to that idea...) and I think the more hair the better for whoever is beautfiying me. Worst case scenario we go for "the Cousin it" and ignore the face. I do have nice hair. So anyway, this new long hair. It keeps whipping me in the eye when I run. Which is quite sore and very annoying. Imagine being blinded by your own hair...and when the hair's not whipping me in the eye I'm trying to blink flies out of my eyes, which really puts a dampener on the pace.

Trying to hock a fly out of your eyelashes without poking your own eye out, while your ponytail whips you in the other eye, which is stinging from your own sweat dripping into it, as you run along on your tiny imaginery horse creating a safety gap to shield yourself from chub-rub...now that is sexy running. It's like a crystal maze challenge with no fluttery money prize.

And to top it all off the ginger-genes (see earlier mention of nice hair - I'm not anti-ginger, just recognising the downsides...) mean I turn full on pillar box red on exertion, for a long, long time afterwards. Seemingly only in the face department, so I look even more bizarre with my milky white neck/arms/legs and sweaty beef tomato head. 

And apparently they take your photo and put it online for the world to see, tomato head-Quasimodo, blind in one eye, shuffling along in a river of my own sweat, cursing they insect life smooshed into my face. Keep posted for that...






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