It wasn’t that long ago when I was dying to get my first race shirt. Nearly three years later, I fear they may wind up being my demise.
My Couch to 5k program came with tech shirts (see photo from this post) and I was jacked! I thought it was the coolest thing since I wore a leopard print bandanna to the Indy 500.
Soon after that 5k, I started running with the East Nasties and for some reason, their “hand out the shirt process” was very secretive. I kept asking and they’d say something like, “Ya just never know!”
Then I helped coach the next Couch to 5K for East Nasty and one of the promises was a shirt. But I missed the night they handed them out and was literally crushed when Cyrus told me they didn’t have any left. But, by some stroke of luck, they found an extra and I thought I was the coolest piece of cheese on the shelf!
And speaking of shelves, mine are overflowing with crap. Mostly race tech shirts I can’t get rid of to save my life.
I’ve been suffering from the Winter Blues lately and my typical remedy is to clear out the clutter. So, with genuine intent, I stormed into my bedroom and scoweled at that shelf. I was determined clean the slate, but I stood and stared at that that tech-shirt-overflow for 10 solid minutes. I was frozen in time and more confused than the morning I took my college ACTs with a hangover.
For 10 minutes, I stayed in a perfectly executed tree pose. I gazed at those shirts and thought, why can’t I get rid of you? Why does the “Shamrock 5K” have such a grip on my psyche? What is it about the “Moosic City Dairy Dash” that makes cling to those utters for life?
So, now, I am in a different room writing about it and those shirts are resting unscathed on their cozy little shelves. All waiting to laugh in my face when I saunter by with tense and frustrated eyes.
I realize this is not very impressive coming from a guy who claims to be practicing Zen and meditating every night. Holding onto possessions like this is senseless and certainly no way to find enlightenment. And how can I not understand that when I hold up this bright orange Rev 3 shirt that is eerily reminiscent of something I would get at Mapco?
This will certainly not go down as my night of awakening.
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