No Cerulean in My Wardrobe!

In and amongst freaking out about the huge mountain I have to now climb with fundraising for Team Fox, I also pulled out the washboard and headed down to the river to do some laundry. As I attracted the attention of several Pileated Woodpeckers with the thwap thwap of running shirts on the drying rock I realized I am not that creative at all!

 

Nowhere else in my closet do I have such a collection of warm tones: Reds, yellows, oranges, and one random green top I love! This begs the question, am I really not that creative, or does the industry dictate what I wear and when?

Of course they are mostly brightly colored cause I hate being hit by cars...no I REALLY hate being hit by cars. However, are they mostly reds cause I love the look so much, or because Nike and Adidas got together and dictated that last season, when I got most on the sale rack, saturated red was going to be the go-to color.

 

 

I'm having a flashback to Devil Wears Prada!

Seriously though, how did these foreign colors infiltrate my nice earth-tone wardrobe? I think the answer comes simply. It's the way we all started acquiring running tops. Our friend convinced us to do a 5k, we needed the cheapest shirt we could find, so we settled.

 

That first top fit badly, it probably chafed in new places, and we probably never really used it since. Because, after that, we were all hooked. We each began bargain hunting for the tops with the least liability, and when we found one, we went crazy. Then an unusual thing happened, we began to color coordinate. We fought it at first, but we all did it, don't lie! We started matching to those first couple pieces like a Bride matching Blush and Bashful! This is how we were as time passed in the 5k world.

Then, for me, it changed on a gigantic new bridge in Key Largo. After blowing a 2hr time with a pinched nerve, in a naughty place, I finished my first half marathon. Standing there in the sunshine, basking in the sea breeze, I inhaled...I smelled like wet dog. No, that is not accurate, I smelled like a wet dog that had rolled in his own, very fresh, mess.

It was at this moment I checked my shorts, you all either have done it, or will one day; because I had read all about it.... I know why the races set up port-o-potties at very specific places. Now I should say right now that my shorts were not soiled. However there is some serious hormone-pheromone-sweaty-pancreatic-sludge being forced through our skin after running that far. I really did want to hide, and then I realized everyone else was kinda doing the same thing, or worse...having their friends check. My adrenal system destroyed my color-coordinated Adidas combo with matching Robin-red striped Sauconys.

After that, my bargain hunting became a search for two things, shorts that hide 13+ miles of skidmarks, and tops that don't chafe my nipples or anything else!