For the month of January, I’ve committed to posting every day, having accepted the 30-day challenge.
This is day 13 of 30.
Like, literally.
The other day, after having let laundry pile up for way too long (down to my last pair of undies) (TMI?), I finally got it all into the washer. And then decided that I should go for a run — not the best timing since all my running clothes were busy getting non-stinky.
So, I dug through the drawers and pulled out a pair of capris. To be honest, they didn’t even look all that familiar, but I figured they would do. I worked them up over my hips; they were snug, but that’s what I expect out of compression clothing, ya know? To be fair, they were probably a size too small, but they were on, they weren’t ripping apart at the seams and I had a run that needed to get in the books. Onward.
I got through the first mile and wondered why I hadn’t used these capris in so long. They felt pretty good, holding everything in the place where it was supposed to be held. You know how that is, right?
Then the second mile. Hmm. Was I just getting tired and overly sensitive?
Third mile. Uh oh. Definitely not good. I was becoming way too intimate with a seam that was in exactly the wrong place (let’s just say that it would have been polite and good form for the capris to buy me dinner first). But it’s too late to stop now, right? I mean, I’m mostly done. Just another mile.
Fourth mile. Really, really not good. I finished my run and gingerly stepped off the treadmill, walking like a toddler with a full diaper. I despaired over the fact that between the stairs from the basement to my bedroom were several windows — blinds open — to the viewing public. Damn myself and my insane desire for sunshine!
I finally made it to privacy and got ready for my shower, inspecting the damage. I didn’t draw blood, thank god for that. But the shower? Every little spot of irritation made itself known. It’s not often that the post-workout shower is more painful than the workout itself, but it seems I’m talented that way. Is there anything worse for an athlete than chafing?
If nothing else, it gives new meaning to the phrase “Feel the burn.”
