Plan C (AKA the one about a sweaty sports bra)
I knew it was a poor decision when I pulled it out of the drawer. My usual running sports bra was MIA and not wanting to waste valuable time searching for it, I went with Plan B. Ok, actually Plan C. Plan B tends to chafe when I wear it running (It's awesome for tennis and gym workouts), so even though the particular sports bra is Plan C for a reason and I knew it probably wouldn't go smoothly, I went with it. In my early morning, not-quite-caffeinated-enough logic, the fact that Plan B would definitely chafe and Plan C might chafe decided me. If you've ever hopped in the shower after a long run with raw skin along your bra line and turned to face the water, you understand. Imagine a thin line of essentially road rash and hot water. I promise you'll want to come out of the rest of your skin when the water hits. Sadly, it's either deal with the pain or not shower. Yes, there are products that are designed to prevent chafing, but I'm old school and cheap. Plus my go-to running bra doesn't chafe., so why waste the money?
Let's get one small factoid about Plan C out in the open - It's about a half size too small. It holds the girls well but it can be uncomfortable until I get used to it. The arm holes rise up a little high and I can feel them when I raise and lower my arms. Beyond a certain point, though, it's just a typical sports bra. If a bit tight in places. I wore it rock climbing last weekend and it worked out so I rationalized it would be ok for a ten mile run.
Oh, I was right. The high rising arm holes didn't bother me in the least while I was running. In fact, the bra performed perfectly and I had a spectacular run. After the run was a different story. As a rule, I change my clothes before I get in my car to drive home. My last car had significant sweat stains on the front seat and I want to avoid that with my new one. Fortunately, the city of Austin has some decent outdoor bathrooms near the trail where I run. Traditionally, I grab a change of clothes out of the car, sequester myself in stall, and exchange my sweaty, often sopping wet, clothes for clean dry ones.
It was at this moment yesterday that I began to have issues with Plan C. I stripped off my wet bottoms and pulled on a pair of old, comfy sweat pants. My top joined my shorts and underwear in a pile on the floor. All that remained was my sports bra. I lifted the edge carefully, just in case there was chafing. To my excitement, there was none. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued the usual de-bra-ing process. Gals, you know you have a process. Up and over the girls, lean over to get an assist from gravity, and over your shoulders and head it goes, right?
Look, all that works great under normal conditions. Add in a bra a half size too small drenched in sweat, a cold body, and numb hands, and you'll understand why you're reading this. I got the first step done - up and over the girls. Then everything abruptly stopped. I didn't even make it to my shoulders before it got stuck. I leaned over. Tried swinging over. Maybe movement would create a centrifugal force enough to jostle it loose. Nope. Can't get a grip. Cold hands. Shake out hands to warm them. Get better grip. Small sound of fabric ripping. No, no, no. It can't rip. Pull less. But it's STUCK. You don't want to rip it. These things are expensive. Tug a small amount. Now a little more. Nothing. Well, not enough to budge it. Fuck. Options? Pull my sweatshirt over the mess and drive home? Hope that when the bra dries and my hands warm up, it'll un-stick? Not a chance. I need to stop at 7-11 for water. I'm not going in the store like that. Ok, back at it. Bend over. Try to grip it better. Hands still so cold. Pull. Not too hard. Pull again. I think it moved a little. Come on. Just a little more. Blow on hands. Grip it. Don't rip it. There it goes. Just a little farther. It's off. It's off!
There was actually a point when I thought I'd have to cut the thing off of me. Or dislocate my shoulder. Seriously. It was that stuck. With that in mind, I think Plan C's running career is over. It didn't chafe and ran well, but I never want to struggle like that again. Even on the best day, changing clothes after a long run is hard work. Yesterday was even bitchier. Plus the stress of thinking it might never come off? Yeah, I'll use it exclusively for non-sweaty-non-hand-numbing events. Good enough.
In the aftermath, I ordered a couple new sports bras from Amazon. It remains to be seen if they will chafe and - perhaps more importantly - be easy-on-easy-off. I'm hopeful at least one will work out. Because f***. Just f***. I never want to struggle like that again. Running is hard enough.
Let's get one small factoid about Plan C out in the open - It's about a half size too small. It holds the girls well but it can be uncomfortable until I get used to it. The arm holes rise up a little high and I can feel them when I raise and lower my arms. Beyond a certain point, though, it's just a typical sports bra. If a bit tight in places. I wore it rock climbing last weekend and it worked out so I rationalized it would be ok for a ten mile run.
Oh, I was right. The high rising arm holes didn't bother me in the least while I was running. In fact, the bra performed perfectly and I had a spectacular run. After the run was a different story. As a rule, I change my clothes before I get in my car to drive home. My last car had significant sweat stains on the front seat and I want to avoid that with my new one. Fortunately, the city of Austin has some decent outdoor bathrooms near the trail where I run. Traditionally, I grab a change of clothes out of the car, sequester myself in stall, and exchange my sweaty, often sopping wet, clothes for clean dry ones.
It was at this moment yesterday that I began to have issues with Plan C. I stripped off my wet bottoms and pulled on a pair of old, comfy sweat pants. My top joined my shorts and underwear in a pile on the floor. All that remained was my sports bra. I lifted the edge carefully, just in case there was chafing. To my excitement, there was none. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued the usual de-bra-ing process. Gals, you know you have a process. Up and over the girls, lean over to get an assist from gravity, and over your shoulders and head it goes, right?
Look, all that works great under normal conditions. Add in a bra a half size too small drenched in sweat, a cold body, and numb hands, and you'll understand why you're reading this. I got the first step done - up and over the girls. Then everything abruptly stopped. I didn't even make it to my shoulders before it got stuck. I leaned over. Tried swinging over. Maybe movement would create a centrifugal force enough to jostle it loose. Nope. Can't get a grip. Cold hands. Shake out hands to warm them. Get better grip. Small sound of fabric ripping. No, no, no. It can't rip. Pull less. But it's STUCK. You don't want to rip it. These things are expensive. Tug a small amount. Now a little more. Nothing. Well, not enough to budge it. Fuck. Options? Pull my sweatshirt over the mess and drive home? Hope that when the bra dries and my hands warm up, it'll un-stick? Not a chance. I need to stop at 7-11 for water. I'm not going in the store like that. Ok, back at it. Bend over. Try to grip it better. Hands still so cold. Pull. Not too hard. Pull again. I think it moved a little. Come on. Just a little more. Blow on hands. Grip it. Don't rip it. There it goes. Just a little farther. It's off. It's off!
There was actually a point when I thought I'd have to cut the thing off of me. Or dislocate my shoulder. Seriously. It was that stuck. With that in mind, I think Plan C's running career is over. It didn't chafe and ran well, but I never want to struggle like that again. Even on the best day, changing clothes after a long run is hard work. Yesterday was even bitchier. Plus the stress of thinking it might never come off? Yeah, I'll use it exclusively for non-sweaty-non-hand-numbing events. Good enough.
In the aftermath, I ordered a couple new sports bras from Amazon. It remains to be seen if they will chafe and - perhaps more importantly - be easy-on-easy-off. I'm hopeful at least one will work out. Because f***. Just f***. I never want to struggle like that again. Running is hard enough.
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