Most of the time, I run alone. On Thursday nights, however, I meet up with a local group for a tempo session in Central Park. I do this less because I鈥檓 desperate for companionship and more because maintaining an aggressive pace for seven or eight miles is relatively easier when you have others to draft off. Tempos are always tough. By the end, I鈥檓 usually supine on the grass, panting at the sky as though I鈥檓 about to go into cardiac arrest. Bewildered tourists tend to keep their distance.
These workouts inspire an amplified version of the pre-run dread/post-run bliss pendulum that all runners are familiar with. Indeed, the period immediately following my Thursday night session is one of the psychological high points of my week. There鈥檚 only one downside: Afterward, sweat-soaked and staggering like someone coming off a two-day gin binge, I鈥檝e got a 50-minute subway ride home. It鈥檚 only then, rattling through the night and surrounded by my fellow New Yorkers, that I鈥檓 forced to ask myself the question that recently came my way from a curious toddler on the train:
鈥淲hat are you wearing?鈥
What am I wearing? The answer will depend on the time of year, but when it comes to running clothes, a certain degree of inappropriateness is guaranteed, no matter the season. Is there a category of athletic attire that鈥檚 more emphatically uncool? With the exception of golf, I would have to say no.
When it comes to running clothes, a certain degree of inappropriateness is guaranteed, no matter the season.
It鈥檚 easy enough to forget when I鈥檓 chasing my runner brethren around the park, but under the glare of the MTA subway lights, the truth comes out: Yes, two-inch split shorts really are too short for polite company. Sometimes my T-shirt or rain jacket will be long enough to obscure the hem, which has the unfortunate effect of making it look like I鈥檓 not wearing anything on the lower half of my body.
I don鈥檛 have this problem in winter, because I wear tights, which pose a dilemma of their own. I鈥檓 aware that leggings have long been commonplace for women and confidently oblivious men, but I have yet to see the light. Walking around in full-length spandex just feels bizarre to me, like I鈥檓 on my way to audition for an athleisure-themed Hamlet. As for the shorts-over-tights look, a among male runners, that鈥檚 just pouring gasoline on the fire.
Meanwhile, the palette from running apparel manufacturers has been questionable of late, to put it delicately. It seems we are only just at the point where major brands are starting phase out the neon-heavy colorways that have dominated the market in recent years. For this, we should all be grateful. Yes, there are practical, safety-related reasons for making runners more conspicuous, but it鈥檚 still possible . Running may be an unostentatious activity, but there鈥檚 no need to overcompensate by making everyone dress like they鈥檙e at a rave. How about a moratorium on tennis ball yellow?
So grim is the running fashion scene that there鈥檚 even been a major aesthetic violation on the sock front, an area where you鈥檇 think it would be pretty hard to go astray. These are dark times: We are living in a moment when knee-high compression socks have gained mainstream acceptance, among both amateurs and world-class professionals. It鈥檚 one thing if these tubular monstrosities are prescribed by your doctor in the wake of a thrombosis scare, but otherwise I think this is one article of running gear where the rule holds: If you don鈥檛 need it, leave it.
In fairness, in the world of sport fashion, running hardly has a monopoly on ridiculousness. Skiing has its gapers. Figure skating exists in its own special, sequined bubble. Only time will tell, but I think the accessory craze of the current NBA will be embarrassing in retrospect. (Some players look like they鈥檝e been .) And let鈥檚 not forget the cyclists in their $600 kits and special riding cleats, gingerly clip-clopping around the coffee shop.
But a bicyclist in his full spandex-clad glory will never be too far from his bicycle. Like the skier in his 1980s throwback onesie, any sartorial silliness is offset by an element of functionality. With running, it鈥檚 less clear-cut; there鈥檚 no convenient prop to justify the aggressive sportiness of one鈥檚 attire. The woman sitting across from me on the subway won鈥檛 necessarily know that I鈥檓 wearing tiny shorts because I want minimal resistance to my stride.
You probably think I鈥檓 being overly self-conscious about all this. And you鈥檙e almost certainly right. Be that as it may, I鈥檝e taken to wearing sweatpants over my running shorts when traveling to and from my Thursday night run. I stash them in the bushes for the duration of the workout. Retrieving them afterward, I鈥檓 always a little apprehensive that I鈥檒l rouse a slumbering raccoon and end up in the New York Post. For now, it鈥檚 a risk I鈥檓 willing to take.