Friday, April 9, 2010

Runner’s Bulge

I took up running many moons ago after a colleague suggested I was a lazy fucker for not making it to the gym. Not quite his words but his sentiment.

“You see, the problem is,” argued me, “I work so late most nights I cannot seem to find the time or energy.”

“Rubbish,” exploded he, “do it first thing in the morning, up from bed and out the door, paratrooper style, don’t even think about it, hit the deck and go, run, run, run.”

It was not the first time I had taken advice about doing something paratrooper style, and from an ex-para. Damn good advice as well. Front end load the pain and misery, get it over with early in the day, that’s the ticket.

I have previously suffered runner’s nipple: The chaffing of nipples due to prolonged friction with shirt. To be fair, I don’t even have to be running, I can get it from drinking in the pub. Well, drinking, and frequently massaging my own moobs in large circular motions in public spaces.

I digress.

This week I am cantering the final stretch of my regular London jaunt across the Millennium Bridge to Embankment. Like a salmon spawning upstream I am caught in a tidal onslaught, of the office worker variety.

Head steady, eyes forward fixed, I am blankly staring into the eyes of the oncoming hoards. I notice a pattern emerging in those of the fairer sex. Many engage in eye contact on approach, and then drop their eyes to my groin before I pass.

I mean really, shocking. It’s not like you catch me gaping at the vital parts of the fairer se…well anyway, that’s not at issue here.

Mr. Happy and the lads aren’t on parade. It is a cold morning. They’re stuffed into my tight fighting Nike running pants. The poor fellas have already done 5K and are exhausted, though I am feeling the pain of last evening’s martinis and have been known to go titanium in a jiff, often without noticing.

What’s more shocking is the occasional trouser pilot snatching a glance, and smirking.

I must immediately review the annals of Runner’s World to seek a remedy for this.



Anonymous said...

I'd look. You know, just for interest. I mean, why not? Comparison is a good thing, isn't it?

Anonymous said...

are you certain your man-thing was completely covered? not making a sneaky appearance down the leg of your shorts? waving at passerby is a sure way to get them looking!

kyknoord said...

Are you sure you're doing it "paratrooper style" and not "commando style"?

Jo said...

Dream on big boy!

Karla said...

Er, I think I can take the position of an expert on this...

It's the motion that gets the attention. There's a certain wiggle in that area that gets the eye pulled to it. A bounce, a jiggle a...waving, if you will. Coupled with stretchy running clothes, well, there you have it. Things are just a bit more...noticeable.

Guys have not got a corner on the surreptitious glance at body parts, ya know.

nursemyra said...

I'd look. For sure.

Michele said...

If you're wearing those stretchy running pants, you're just asking for it, fella.

LOL about the massaging of the moobs. :-)

RubyTwoShoes said...

Or you could just try wearing MC Hammer pants next time

Zhu said...

I simply don't understand people who go to the gym first thing in the morning - or worse, people who go job along the Canal in Ottawa in January.

I can barely get up...

Sid said...

Bwahaha. That was fucking hilarious. My favourite line: "have been known to go titanium in a jiff, often without noticing."

beaverboosh said...

dolce - totally human girl

df - no, long tight running trousers... seriously, i am not even sure they know they are doing it, sort of in a morning trance with a genetic tick

kyk - pretty sure pal, to effin cold for commando at this time of year

jo - you know i am a dreamer...

karla - thank you. it's nice to have an expert weigh into this discussion with some factual evidence

nm - i'd look back

michele - probably right... i love my moobs

ruby - hey ya, NOT, maybe some Loudmouth trousers though

zhu - the early bird catches the worm... and needs a nap by 2

sid - welcome... no joke there, damn thing has a mind of his own