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Okay here’s something you may not know about me unless you’ve been following all of the posts. I love running clothing, and will buy something new for myself anytime I can come up with an excuse to do so! It doesn’t even have to be a good excuse or a new one…I’m not too proud to use stale, bad excuses when necessary.

In fact, more than half of my wardrobe is composed of running attire: running shirts and running shorts and jackets and tights. Running shoes and socks and hats, oh my!

I have tried (but not quite succeeded yet) to get every color available in both tops and running shorts. It’s an ongoing project, but a fun one…everyone needs a hobby, right? And you should see me stylin’ when I’m running in my orange running shirt and orange running shorts…in fact you can’t help but see me….I’m nearly neon at that point. I’ll have to see if I have a picture to show you…

Here’s One….

Vision Runner in Blazing Neon Orange Running Clothes

I do feel it’s important to be comfortable while running, and certainly color-coordinated as well. Not only does it make the experience of running much more enjoyable; the appropriate running clothes are important for body temperature regulation: to keep cool in the hotter months and warm during the winter months. Not to mention compensating for changes in humidity and wind chill, etc.

When I decided to train for my first marathon, it was the beginning of a new year, 2007. And that meant I had to start my mileage build-up in January. I definitely needed winter running apparel. Fortunately, that winter was a mild one.

Most days I could wear a short-sleeved running shirt with a lightweight running jacket and tights. I always wear a running cap and on the cooler days, gloves. The cap serves a dual purpose: to keep the glare out of my eyes and on cold runs, to keep the heat in. The gloves usually get peeled off about half-way through my run. There were a few times running when I needed to wear a fleece hat, but usually only when it was windy out.

I discovered that a lightweight running jacket was essential for running at that time of the year. It not only kept me warm, but it was vented so that I didn’t overheat during my runs. I’ve heard that running causes the temperature to feel 10 degrees warmer. Before I had my running jacket, when I would run in colder weather, I’d wear a long-sleeved running shirt. But this wasn’t a great strategy as I was starting out my runs feeling cold, and then, once I did start to heat up, pushing up the sleeves just didn’t do the trick to cool me. By having a vented jacket, now the moisture wicks away from my skin, and I don’t get chilled during longer runs. Since I hate to be too hot while running, it’s nice that I can take my running jacket off if I get overheated, and put it right back on once I start to cool off.

We have very low humidity in western Montana, so if I’m running when the sun is out, it can heat up fairly quickly, even during the winter. Even though I would get warmed up in the sun, it was important for me to note that when running at temps below 45 degrees F, I needed to be wearing running tights. It is important to keep your leg muscles warm. Even though I might sometimes get a little too hot when wearing the tights, I found my recovery time was much quicker, and I was not as sore the next day. My main problem with running tights is that I just don’t have as many colors to choose from as I do in my selection of running shorts. I suppose that’s okay, cause I only have one running jacket. So what’s the point? I simply learned to be content to just wear different colored running hats.

The hardest training times for me were the transitional seasons: winter into spring and spring into summer. After running in tights and a jacket all winter, I got excited to put on running shorts without a jacket, just wearing a short-sleeved running shirt.

I did have to be careful though, because spring in Montana could bring some unexpected, very nasty weather. It only took getting caught in a spring snowstorm one time for me to realize that even though the day might look nice to start with, I was running for 2 to 2 ½ hours at a time. A lot can happen weather-wise during that time. As they say in Montana, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes.”

I ran long training runs with my friend Vickie riding her bicycle along with me, and it was easier to start off with a lot more layers of running clothing. As I warmed up, I would shed an item of running clothing, and she would tuck it away in a saddle bag. I was doing a lot of my long runs during that unpredictable spring weather, so having her there alongside me for my long training runs made it easy to be prepared for whatever the weather might bring. Thanks, Vickie!

Of course, my favorite season for running is summer: primarily because most of my running clothes match that season. As I said before, I hate to be too hot while running, so my running shorts for the most part tend to be the kinds that have a generous runner‘s split up the side to allow me the most comfort and the coolest run. But I also have quite a few longer length running shorts that are good for cooler mornings or late spring days.

My singlets (running shirts – tank tops) are of a very cool lightweight, wick-away material. I’ve noticed that some of my running shirts don’t breathe as well, so I use those mostly for early morning runs when it’s not too hot yet.

Okay….so maybe I have gone on a bit too much about running clothes, but my point is this: when running, I want to be smart about what I wear. So by having a lot of choices of what to wear, I never have to worry that I don’t have the right piece of running clothing. That’s how I justify it anyway

I check the conditions, and dress accordingly. And while I’m at it, why not look my best? Wearing nice running clothes makes me feel better about myself. After all, I work hard for this body!

So the three C’s of running clothing of critical importance: Comfortable and Color-Coordinated….

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

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There are certain enduring events that will always stay with us. We may not remember the exact year or day of the week or even the date, but we remember what we were doing on those specific days when we first heard about the event because of the shock factor and because it is a part of our personal and universal consciousness:

Like when John Lennon was shot

And when Mount St Helens erupted (if you lived in the northwest U.S.).

And when Princess Diana died. 

Or the space shuttle Challenger exploded. 

And the most memorable is obviously 9/11.

That day started out for me like most any other day. It was my day off, and it was a beautiful early fall/late summer day. I got up, planning to go for a long run. As I was getting dressed, I noticed my clock flashing, so I turned on the television to check the time.  I don’t usually watch TV until later in the evening, so the fact that I had turned it on to see the time was, well, obviously timely.

When the television first came on, I saw tall, mangled buildings that looked to be on fire.  I was just staring, not really absorbing or understanding what it was that had happened, other than that it was simply horrifying. Eventually I read across the bottom of the screen a description of what was going on, or what they knew so far, anyway. Then a friend called to tell me what had happened.

I just felt sick.  Just like most of the world, my heart ached, literally ached.  Like a dark and heavy shroud, a feeling of fear, combined with uneasiness and dread, enveloped me. 

My instinct was to cancel my run and stay inside, where it felt like it might be relatively safe, and certainly a little more emotionally secure - to keep watching the TV and see what they said. Like maybe somehow there would be more definition or explanation of what this crazy, jumbled, buildings falling, people dying, smoke-filled insanity was about, or why it had happened, or what the hell was going on, anyway. Even though it was something that happened on the other side of the country, it penetrated sharply into my core, like letting all the air out of me, and left me in this bizarre emotional fog. It affected me physically, making me weak, a little dizzy, and unstable on my feet.

Something inside told me to go for that run anyway, even though there was a heaviness in my gut, a fog in my head, and instability in my step. I couldn’t tell you what it was, maybe disbelief, or maybe an all too genuine belief with an urgent need for some kind of normalcy, maybe something else entirely. I don’t know what it was, but something made me go. I guess subconsciously I knew it wouldn’t be healthy to keep sitting there and absorbing it like a sponge, the incomprehensible being replayed over and over again on the TV.

As I ran, at first it was a little disjointed and unsure – like I wasn’t really me, or at least not my normal me. It was very heavy, but not a physical heaviness, more of an emotional weight. I know I keep saying “heavy” but there was an actual feeling of oppressive substance on that day. For the first mile or more of my run, every breath was a struggle; again, not so much physically but emotionally, like an exhale of anguish or dissipation of ache.

About half way into the run, I started to feel a little better. I’m sure it helped my spirit that it was a beautiful day, although the glowing impact of the sun and the sky and the leaves was subdued by the circumstances. The repetition and the percussion of my body connecting with the path, it was grounding me. It’s like it took some of the grief and channeled it into a little bit of perspective. Made the fear and pain dissipate into the first awkward stages of healing….

It helped the overwhelming-ness of it all to calm a little. I couldn’t have defined it at the time, but I guess it was the early dawning of my realization that even though there was still a gaping uncertainty as to what had happened or why, and the confusion and hurt were still present and unyielding, I could pick up and move forward. Things would never be the same, but even this literally earth-shattering, world-twisting event, even this too, shall pass. It felt like the world had ended, and in very certain terms, a portion of our innocence and cheerful obliviousness did literally die. But there is always an element of alacrity in the human spirit. And if at all possible, a well-defined, probably badly bruised and deeply buried, but somehow indefatigable will to live will rise up. 

I guess personally, for my own emotional health, my body or God or whatever moved me, just knew I needed to run, to start the healing process within myself. It wasn’t really a thoughtful choice, more of a numb knee-jerk reaction, but by running that day, I had subconsciously decided not to allow outside circumstances to determine my reality for me.  I didn’t know that was what I was doing at the time, but looking back at it now, by making the choice to run anyway, I can see it was what allowed me to begin the process of healing.  

It was a prayer.

Vision Runner

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Back in 1992, a friend named Dana approached me about running with her. She was a fanatic, and I, at first, resisted. Not letting a little “no” stand in her way, she persisted. After about three weeks of her continually trying to cajole me into being her running partner, I finally relented and went out for a run with her. Now running was not something I had ever considered doing previously. In fact, running was so distasteful to me that in high school when I was considering the military, I actually asked the recruiter which branch of the service would have the least amount of running. Now, I never did join the military, but eventually, the running caught up to me anyway.

Although she was great company, I really didn’t enjoy running with Dana as she had very long legs and a faster pace, not to mention that she was ten years younger than me, and had the non-stop energy of a pinball ricocheting around in a pinball machine. Every time we went out running, I had a hard time getting past the burning lungs and the aching legs.

Fortunately for me, as I mentioned before, Dana was a running nut. Her drive and enthusiasm made it possible for me to run just one more day, then another, and another. Her momentum became my momentum. I had to use her determination and love of the sport to get my butt out of bed when my entire body was screaming at me to “lay still and play dead”.

Although I still wasn’t really enjoying it too much, we ran 5 times a week. One day after probably three or four months of this torture, Dana was out of town, and she couldn’t make our morning run. I thanked my lucky stars, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

Notice the word “tried”.

Now I really don’t know what accident of nature got me out of bed to lace up my running shoes, but lo and behold, somehow I ended up heading out the door to run by myself, still dreading it, but somehow compelled to do it anyway.

I’ll never forget that day. That day was a turning point for me. I had been using my friend’s momentum to keep me running, but trying to keep up with her long legs made it such a struggle for me every day. The day that I ran by myself, it was actually enjoyable. At some point in the first few miles, I had a breakthrough – I got into a rhythm; I got to that point where everything just flows – I was one with my body and all my parts were working in harmony, and I didn’t have to focus on anything…not my breathing, not my legs, not the ground. Everything was in sync. It was actually easy.

I can still remember the color of the leaves changing in the fall and the deep blue color of the sky. It was an exhilarating feeling of well-being. I’d never even paid attention to the cracks in the sidewalk, or the details of where we really were each day. The difference was almost earth-shaking. And it was because I was able to run at my own pace, instead of hers.

When I started running with Dana, never could I have imagined that I’d still be at it sixteen years later, and not only loving it, but there’s an element of addiction to it.

First off, I would have never gotten here to this point without her. While I haven’t heard from her in over ten years, and have no idea where she is or what she’s doing these days, Dana was the catalyst that propelled me towards what is now my passion, running. Sometimes, although we don’t know it, we need someone or something else to push us towards something that we love.

But the other side of that coin is that it couldn’t become something that I loved until I owned it for myself. She got me started, but it was when she wasn’t even there that I actually took control of it and was able to make it my own thing. Previous to that, it was her thing that I just happened to be doing, too. As I look back, I am so grateful that my friend put me on the path, gave me a little (or perhaps “really big”) push to give me the momentum, that allowed me to eventually find my own pace.

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner