What Not To Wear Would Say No.

(Disclaimer: this post is not for men. Or for the faint of heart. I'm just warning you.)

It has turned cold. Suddenly.

Earlier this week I ran in capris but for this morning's run I pulled out all of the cold weather clothes. The temperature was right at freezing, 32 degrees, so I wore running tights, a long sleeved shirt, a vest, a hat, and gloves. The tights are something new for me. In the past we have gone inside to the treadmill at the first sign of cold weather but this year we are tough. This year Kelsey and I have decided to stay out as long as possible until there is ice on the ground ready to slip us up or the threat of frostbite. Thus the tights. And they live up to their name. They are tiiiiight. But we run in the morning, in the dark and no one is ever around to be traumatized by my tights.

This morning we ran 8 miles. It was beautiful out on the trail. We were pretty much the only ones out there, the snow was falling softly and all was silent except for our constant stream of conversation. The trees have all shed their leaves now and the fields were dusted with a sprinkling of white powder. Serene.

We finished up at our cars and stood and stretched for a bit. It was still fairly early but light out. We parted ways and I jumped in my car and started it up, trying to get warm. I pulled out of the parking lot and was about to make a right to head home when I remembered that I needed a few things at the grocery store. I went left instead. I was feeling pretty good about how much I was going to accomplish before 9 am, a good run, getting the fridge stocked back up, yay! I grabbed my purse off of the passenger seat and headed in to the store. It was as I came up to the door that I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection and abruptly remembered. I was wearing tights. Tight tights.

It was too late, I was past the point of no return. I have never been so self conscience while grocery shopping in my whole life. I was aware of every step I took and where every other customer was in relation to my backside. I strategically maneuvered my way to the broccoli, to the Mayo, to the pasta. I spent as little time as possible at the meat counter, feeling very aware of the rump roast staring at me from the other side of the glass. It seemed that there were a lot more teenage boys working this Saturday morning shift than usual. As I bent over into the freezer case and reached for a bag of mixed veggies, I closed my eyes and sent up a prayer beseeching God to strike all shoppers in aisle six with temporary blindness for just a few seconds. I paid quickly and me and my panty lines exited the store as fast as humanly possible. It was the fastest grocery shopping I have ever done.

A sprint.

Records were broken.

I am a much humbler person than I was just hours ago.