Dude, this isn't the weather for shorts.
Today, I received fashion advice from one of the local transients.
While I will admit, I wasn't wearing the most glamorous attire, but I still am doing my best to take sexy back. A good friend of old, Erica, stated her goal this year was to take sexy back, to which I righteously responded "a race it is". Looking back through recent posts, it appears I have yet to describe this outfit. Facebook users have heard me mention it here and there, but at last I will fully disclose the outfit so wild that bums scoff at it.
Paint you a picture I shall: here in the epic area of the Northwest, it gets quite cold when the sun goes down, as it well should. Cold enough that the city must worry of freezing fog. All this adds to the ridiculousness of my attire, but my brethren understand completely. I am, once again, a runner.
One way of describing my attire is that of safe. Bright colors contrasting to provide a great deal of visibility for those around. Or you could just say I look like a dysfunctional Gap addict. Steadfast in my outfit are blue tights and most commonly a bright green, sheer Nike long sleeve. Atop that I will mix and match various combinations of t-shirts for added warmth and some boxer shorts to hide the fact that it is fucking cold out. While this might sound terribly flimsy, largely because it is such, it is more than enough to keep me functioning in cold weather. Now that I think about it, I really should get around to buying some tuxedo t-shirts for when I run...
Perhaps I encountered an oddly color blind and/or already drunk transient this morning when I finally came to a stop, but nevertheless his first comment was to question my wearing shorts in such cold a morning. I assured him all was well. Then I got the question I was dreading: could I spare any change. I find it best in this situation to be honest: Sorry, but I don't have pockets.
Running is going well over all. Slowly I am catching up with what I carved into the memory of my legs ever so long ago. Having boundless hills to choose from does accelerate the process a pinch. I will admit I may be pushing a tad too hard, twice in the past week I have to take a day off because I felt like punishing myself the day before. Tomorrow should be one of those days but I am going to try running a relatively flat route for once. I found out this morning why I love ending my runs down 1st Avenue: the slant makes for fantastic coasting. I discovered this fact by running up it for a change only to find it kicking my ass a tad.
We end this post by negating all the hard work in one fell swoop. I bid you farewell so that I might pour myself a drink.
While I will admit, I wasn't wearing the most glamorous attire, but I still am doing my best to take sexy back. A good friend of old, Erica, stated her goal this year was to take sexy back, to which I righteously responded "a race it is". Looking back through recent posts, it appears I have yet to describe this outfit. Facebook users have heard me mention it here and there, but at last I will fully disclose the outfit so wild that bums scoff at it.
Paint you a picture I shall: here in the epic area of the Northwest, it gets quite cold when the sun goes down, as it well should. Cold enough that the city must worry of freezing fog. All this adds to the ridiculousness of my attire, but my brethren understand completely. I am, once again, a runner.
One way of describing my attire is that of safe. Bright colors contrasting to provide a great deal of visibility for those around. Or you could just say I look like a dysfunctional Gap addict. Steadfast in my outfit are blue tights and most commonly a bright green, sheer Nike long sleeve. Atop that I will mix and match various combinations of t-shirts for added warmth and some boxer shorts to hide the fact that it is fucking cold out. While this might sound terribly flimsy, largely because it is such, it is more than enough to keep me functioning in cold weather. Now that I think about it, I really should get around to buying some tuxedo t-shirts for when I run...
Perhaps I encountered an oddly color blind and/or already drunk transient this morning when I finally came to a stop, but nevertheless his first comment was to question my wearing shorts in such cold a morning. I assured him all was well. Then I got the question I was dreading: could I spare any change. I find it best in this situation to be honest: Sorry, but I don't have pockets.
Running is going well over all. Slowly I am catching up with what I carved into the memory of my legs ever so long ago. Having boundless hills to choose from does accelerate the process a pinch. I will admit I may be pushing a tad too hard, twice in the past week I have to take a day off because I felt like punishing myself the day before. Tomorrow should be one of those days but I am going to try running a relatively flat route for once. I found out this morning why I love ending my runs down 1st Avenue: the slant makes for fantastic coasting. I discovered this fact by running up it for a change only to find it kicking my ass a tad.
We end this post by negating all the hard work in one fell swoop. I bid you farewell so that I might pour myself a drink.