I’ve been back in beautiful Londontowne for exactly 3 weeks. And the time I’ve spent in those 21 days wandering the streets has been amazing …but I’m getting ahead of myself.
It all started over the holidays. Everyone was talking about Lululemon, the super yuppy yoga/running company. Dice was telling me all about a pair of pants they’d just released with this new technology for yada yada yah, and by the way, they look great too. Then a few days later one of my good friends was telling me all about how her mom had bought her some clothes for Xmas, and although she was skeptical, she had to admit they were amazing. Literally, the number of independent people who mentioned the brand was astounding. “But it’s just so expensive!” I always tell them. “I know, and it’s so worth it,” they always reply.
Anyway, my sister was absolutely dedicated to showing me just what I was missing. Please note, the rest of the story about this shopping experience is embarrassing. I get that. But at least enjoy it, even if it’s at our expense.
So one afternoon after school, we decided to make a mad dash to the store before we picked up Happy from daycare. “This is perfect!” we told each other, “we have a set time limit at Lululemon because Happy has to be picked up in 1.25 hours.” Lo and behold, they are in the midst of their annual sale, the only time a year that you can buy any article of clothing without placing a second mortgage on your house. We tried on more clothes than is necessary at a store that only really sells three things: pants, base layer tops and jackets. We made friends with multiple sales people, traipsed back and forth from the dressing room to the sales floor in multiple pairs of butt-flattering pants, and eventually culled it down to two piles: Items That Don’t Fit, and Items That Do Fit. Note, any smart shopper can tell you that the Items That Do Fit pile is no where near checkout. You still have to figure out whether you “need” (read: “want”) it, whether you can afford it, whether any two items are relatively overlapping in function, and ultimately, whether any the above are good enough reasons to leave the beautiful, well-fitting pants behind.
In our particular case, this took longer than 1.25 hours. Finally, in a moment of stress and incapable of making decisions, Dice threw her Items That Do Fit pile into my arms and exclaimed, “I’m going to get Happy!”
So there I was. Unfortunately, the 30 min that I was hanging in the store with two big piles of Do Fit clothes (hers and mine) ultimately led to at least one of those piles growing considerably. I will say, though, that when she got back, at least one more vest made it into her pile. Just for the record.
Anyway, we finally left the store that day with some very exciting purchases and lots of big dreams. Not only are we going to buy these pants that we NEED, we’re now going to use them because we WANT to. We love working out! (See how I switched those verbs there? Those who know well can anticipate which I would switch to make the entire phrase a bit more truthful.)
The next day, to prove to myself that using tuition money for clothing was a valid expenditure, I put on my new, cool-kid running clothes and went on a run. It felt great! The wind in my hair, the music keeping me motivated, the happy dog-walkers who would wave as I passed by. That lasted about 3 blocks. Then I remembered that this was running. Even in expensive, cool-kid clothes, I’m still just running. Don’t get me wrong, I love exercise, but I’m more a sweaty gym studio than running kind of girl. Even a zen-ful yoga studio instead of running. Really, anything but running. I haven’t run farther than a sporadic 1 mile every 16 months since high school, when they moved me from center field to defense for my JV lacrosse team. I’m thinking, that if I’m honest with myself, running probably has something to do with that.
But, the $$ currently encasing my legs kept giving me the guilties, and I knew I had to at least try. I went just over a mile. When Dice got home from work, she was so jealous, she made me get dressed again and we took Happy in his specialty running stroller for what I’m fairly certain was only its second use (yes, apparently my entire family is in denial). That time, we went almost two miles. The day after, just over two.
Since I’ve been back, I’ve run consistently every other day, logging just about 20 miles in between real classes and gym classes and dinners and friends. I mean, 20 miles isn’t rocket science. Actually, it isn’t even a marathon, but it’s something, right? Turns out, I kind of like it. It really does get easier, and you can’t beat the views. Sometimes I use it as procrastination. Sometimes I just want to get away for 20 min. Pretty soon, I hope, I can escape for longer than that.
The point of all this is: I solemnly swear to use my new, cool-kid clothes consistently. I’m putting this out there in the public world, so now there is real-life accountability.
This is me, in London, trying to run 300 miles before the end of July.
And yes, it is worth it.