forty-six plus one
I have forty-six running shirts hanging in my closet. More than I’ll ever need. Yet on Saturday I bought myself another one.
About half of these shirts are from the various runs I’ve done. (And these are just the technical — plastic — shirts from the runs. I probably have that many more that are cotton, which I don’t run in.) They display the logo or the name of the race where I earned the shirt. The backs are usually festooned with the names of the many sponsors of the races. All of this plastic on plastic makes the shirts impossible to sweat through, which is supposed to be the point of a tech shirt. It’s supposed to wick away your sweat and evaporate it. But with all of the images on the shirt, a lot of wicking real estate is lost. (Most of these are thus relegated to my less sweaty winter runs.)
The others are shirts I’ve bought myself at running stores. A color I thought I’d like. Or one that fits differently. One that was a bargain I couldn’t pass up. That kind of nonsense.
But I’m about to embark on the biggest race of my running career, and I want my gear to be as perfect as possible. So I found a shirt I liked in every way: fit, fabric, no extra seams, and the openness of the scooped neck. (Believe me. These things take on significance after a few miles.) I have two others of this make. One I wore in the Kansas City Half last week, and the other at the Plaza 10K last month. They’re good shirts, but the colors are boring. Then I found one by this same maker in an electric blue that caught my eye. And it was on sale. So I had to have it.
I am slowly assembling my kit for the New York City Marathon. Based on my running experiences, and with living with the person I am for many decades, I’m trying to be as prepared as a man can be who hasn’t done sufficient training or exercising. A good shirt can make up that difference, right?