I know I've been sparse 'round these parts lately but it's been for good reason.
I had signed up to run a 4 mile race and I needed to make sure the 20 minutes per day that I'm not at work were spent at the gym and not diddling with this blog. The race was my first timed race and my goals were to run 11:30 minute miles, not to finish last and to run the whole time. You all know I'm a gym class failure so these are actually real goals. I am happy to report that not only did I run the whole time but I came in at almost a minute faster per mile -- which means I beat out 655 runners who were SLOWER THAN ME. I also now know how to attach a time chip to my sneaker, a skill that will be prominently featured on my resume.
As with any training, there were some brutal aspects. For instance, I was accidentally locked in my gym. They locked the gym, turned out all the lights and left me there. At the very moment I was wrapped in a towel, stepping into the locker room shower with my locker key as my only possession. Unfortunately you need light + a locker key to get in your locker so I was out of luck when the lights went off -- the locker room was pitch black but the gym itself had some emergency lighting. I walked all over the gym, in my towel, yelling "Hello?" but they were gone. How does an entire gym empty out at closing time on the dot and lock its doors when someone is still in the locker room? You tell me. Did I mention this was my first time at this branch and it's 3 floors?
Luckily I didn't have to call the cops to get me out, the only solution I came up with. It turns out the studio next door shared a secret hallway with my gym and a chivalrous stranger came to greet me. While I was walking around yelling unanswered salutations. In my towel (awkward). He showed me the unmarked steel door that led to the shared hallway and offered to get me out of there but it was clear I'd need clothes in order to take him up on this offer. I felt my way through the pitch black locker room, dressed by the light of my previously-in-locker iphone and made my way to the hallway to meet with the Upstanding Citizen to bring me to freedom.
When telling my friend this story she asked me if I was afraid or pissed off when it happened and I said, "No, I was just incredulous the entire time. Like, who the hell gets locked in their gym?" It was also a fun example of how I act under pressure - which is to exist in a state of disbelief riddled by profanity.
I can only imagine this helped me on race day. As I stood out in the cold, in the slow people race corral all the way at the back of the starting line I thought, "At least I'm not locked in the @#!%!@ gym." Thank you for that, irresponsible gym staff.
None of this has anything to do with clothes or ethical fashion, although it partially explains why I was not around talking about either.