I've been running for quite a while now. Don't have a Garmin, have never had a Garmin. And let me tell you why. I'll be coming off a no-running phase and decide to start running full speed ahead. And I tell myself once I hit X goal- whether it's a half marathon I'm training for, or a specified amount of time or whatever- once I hit that goal, then I'll have proved I'm dedicated to running and I'll go buy the Garmin. But inevitably, this is what happens. I hit my goal, I'm burned out on running and have no desire to get a Garmin.
Same thing with tennis. I started playing, told myself I would invest in tennis gear once I had proved myself worthy and committed to the sport. Until then I would show up looking like I was ready...to go running. Minus the Garmin. I stopped playing after I proved worthy. I've yet to buy tennis gear.
Same thing with boxing, volleyball, hiking, yoga, strength training, etc.
And so this mad cycle continues of me showing up to every sport looking like I'm ready to go running. I look out of place for awhile and then I start getting the hang of the new deal and just when it's time to actually start looking the part....I burn out. Done. Wash my hands of it. On to the next.
But fate took a bit of a shift.
That fate started when a blessed Lululemon gift card ended up in my hands. The birthday that keeps on giving, ya'll. And to all you reading this- remember this one simple piece of advice...The way to a lady's heart comes in no simpler form than a 2x4 inch card beckoning her to enter the doors of Lulu on your tab.
Anyway, so this gift card fell in my hands courtesy of one of my favorite people in the whole wide world. And I didn't let it sit on my kitchen counter for more than 2 in-town days before I scooped it right up and was ready to add to my workout gear. My chauffeur drove me to my desired location and escorted me inside. Entering the doors....I felt it. That thing that happens. That giddy thing. I might have done a slight hop before I continued on my way. I was taking it all in- the endless hangings of brightly colored tank tops, all different styles, the newly added everyday-looking shirts, the jackets that I need one in each color although I have none, the cubicles of shorts, followed by....the cubicle of skirts. The cubicle of skirts??? Interesting. Totally caught me off guard. And if there is anything that intrigues me, it's something that catches me off guard.
Dare I take my lingerie to the next level and go with the skirt? Because surely I would feel like more than a bit of a piece of prissy work running in a skirt. But in my new effort to push my own limits, stretch my own comfort zone, I went for it. I confidently picked up that little piece of merchandise and march up to the cash register.
That's all it took to become the new proud owner of a running skirt.
Now fate wasn't quite done with me.
The next morning I woke up to the most heavenly day. After making a nice, slow breakfast for the fam, we headed to the beach, and then the pool. Could it possibly get anymore heavenly or PERFECT?
Yes, yes it could. There's always room for just a little bit more.
All watered and sunned out, the majority of the crew was ready for naps. Fortunately, the two independent ones were the only rebels.
And me. Of course.
Just like that, I saw the window open and just like in my teenage years, silently coming in and out of the library window at all hours of the night, I knew this was my escape route. I went upstairs, slipped that little dainty skirt on, and bolted, only stopping to grab my tennis racket, sneaking out before that window closed on me.
Now follow closely, because this is when things start to get a bit tricky.
For the first time in over two years, I was off to tennis clinic. And for the first time in my adult life, I was showing up looking the part to do something besides run, even if there was a bit of fraud involved, my little secret being that I wasn't wearing a tennis skirt, but a running skirt. Coincidence that my first time playing tennis in forever is the day after I bought a skirt??? I don't know, I just don't know.
And dressing the part did wonders. Beginner's luck strapped itself right to me and wasn't about to let go. I was loving it, feeling like Maria Sharapova minus the grunting.
But the skirt begged attention of it's own. In fact, it was drawing way too much attention. Slowly, painfully, my secret started to unravel. I was feeling the mounting peer pressure as the compliments kept coming in. I just couldn't take that they were falling for my misrepresentation. That they couldn't see that I'm really just a runner trying to pose as a tennis player. That I still haven't given into the urge to break down and buy tennis gear despite my absolute love for the sport.
And just like that I was reeled in, hooked for yet another opportunity to look like an idiot.
Like a busted theif of identify, I started in with the apologies, the explanations, the twisted rationalization, before simply handing over the truth....
It's a running skirt.
a tennis skirt.
There they had it. The naked truth. Exposed. Bare for ridicule. Before tears even had a chance to well up in my shameful eyes, they gave it to me, went in for the kill....
Apparently a running skirt and a tennis skirt are all the same thing.
Who knew tennis skirts didn't need to have pockets on them?!!!
And to think I could have been two-timing all this while! And it's probably just as well I use my Iphone wrapped in one of the kids' socks, safely stuffed in my tank top to track my mileage and stats instead of a Garmin. I'll show you how to kill two birds with one stone anytime!