I wouldn't call myself a pro at the ole "go for a run and return to work" thing but I've done it enough times that I should know how it works.
And by know how it works, I mean that I should know what to pack.Yet twice this week, I have found myself in compromising positions because I obviously don't know how to pack.
On Monday, I had planned a 3- or 4-mile recovery run in the afternoon - just something to refresh my legs and minds during the awkward time before my meetings. My stomach was starting to feel a bit off but I decided to give it a go and see how things went. I grabbed my tote bag and headed to the ladies room to get ready.
I shed work clothes and slipped on a sports bra and shirt. I slid on a pair of capris and put on my watch. I grabbed my shoes and sock.
Yes. Sock. Singular.
It seems that I only had the forethought to bring one with me (the other, as I later discovered, was in the center console of my car - obviously where it belonged). I could have used the stomach + sock combo to skip but I already told someone I was running and, well, yeah.
I was a bit surprised to discover how not bothersome it was to run with one sock. I didn't even notice a difference until mile 2.5 and it was near my big toe, where the tongue hits the top of the foot - not the heel as I expected. It was a bit uncomfortable but no big deal.
Not like going sans bra to work.
This morning, in an effort to sleep and run, I decided to pull my favorite mother runner trick: drop off Miles a bit early and show up to work 15 minutes late. I took the beast - and I can call him that because he said his friend at daycare loves him more than I do - to my mother-in-law's house about 9. He was decked out in IPFW fanware, and I was in lululemon capris and an Under Armour turtleneck.
After a few attempts at a hug, I said my goodbyes and headed out for a 5-mile run. The run itself, if you're interested, was nothing special but I was glad to be able to run after feeling so terrible for most of the week and teaching two classes last night. I finished in 47 minutes, got in the car and headed to work - where I would clean up and change.
And I did clean up, thanks to the baby wipes and deodorant I always keep in my tote bag. I did change, too, in the sense that I took off my running clothes and put on the things I packed.
The things I packed: Denim trousers, a belt, long-sleeve Kelly green T-shirt, plaid button-up, cream scarf and boots.
Did you notice something missing? Go back. Look. Now tell me.
Yep, that would be a bra. I did not bring a bra to work. I felt a bit troubled when I made the discovery. I certainly didn't want to drive home to retrieve one nor did I want to go to the nearby Salvation Army to buy a thrifted one. My support tank that I wore running was soaking and definitely not an option.
I decided not to wear one at all. Before you get all skeeved out, let's be honest about my situation. Wearing a bra is just a formality as nursing + weight loss has left little to support. I'm also wearing two shirts plus a scarf that hides it all and, well, there you have it. I've apparently transported myself back to the 1970s where undergarments are optional and shaving is discouraged. (It is, just ask my legs.)
Question of the day: What would you do? Bonus points for saying you'd buy a super cute gym bag stocked with essentials to store at your desk.