This week’s run was a cautionary tale. When it’s March in Boston but it feels like March in Sydney, do not wear tights. I repeat: Do not wear tights. You may at first think you’re terribly clever for eschewing your super-duper heavy winter tights in favor of lighter-weight poly/cotton gym leggings. But this superior feeling will be fleeting. You see, leggings are still tights. And tights + running + ridiculous March weather = TOO HOT.
Told you it wouldn’t take long for me to start complaining about the heat …
All jokes aside (never!), this weekend’s 5K, the Ras na hEireann U.S.A. (“race of Ireland and the United States”) in Boston, marked No. 12 in my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge. That’s right, 12! And despite my poor sartorial judgement, it was a glorious occasion. Blue skies, green duds, and the promise of many, many ales.
I don’t have a drop of Irish blood in me (although lately I’ve been making up for that with beer), but I thought I should show some spirit. My spirit-delivery mechanism was long socks, a common choice for runners at St Patrick’s-themed events. But, alas, long socks have many tights-like properties, so on this occasion, they quickly became socks of the ankle persuasion. Oh well, I tried.
Needless to say, my running performance was hampered somewhat by the overzealous dressing.
I would have taken off my long-sleeved shirt, but the universe is definitely not ready for me to run in a sports bra and nothing else on top.





