Bad jogging and my need for a male bra

January 15, 7:30 am: Today was the first time I’ve exercised outside of the gym. I decided to go for a slow run instead of the gym’s machinery (slow run: a seemingly oxymoron unless you’ve seen me run. Running indicates speed and I run slightly faster than my TV). Today, most of the United States was freezing, even below zero in many places, but for reasons only known to Al Gore, it was in the mid-80’s in Southern California. I drove to the parking lot of the Roadway Inn about 6 miles from my house. The hotel sits next to the headquarters of Western Digital (http://www.westerndigital.org/) and a dirt trail that I’ve spent a lot of time on. A few years ago I ran the San Diego Rock & Roll Marathon and did most of my training on this route. Today I decided to run out for 20 minutes and then return. Forty minutes should be easy for an ex-marathoner, right? Well, even though my running shoes still fit, my body somehow slipped into a coma while on the trail. I ran for 18.5 minutes, walked for 1.5 and then turned around at exactly 20 minutes. I’m embarrassed to admit that I fell apart on the return. I ran a little, walked, limped, saw three women running toward me and started running again (pride is an amazing energizer) and walked when they were out of site. At one point I wanted to stop and hang with the Western Digital employees who were out taking a smoking break, but in this case I made the right decision and kept running. I hated every minute of the run except for about 1 minute of joy and laughter at someone else’s expense. What happened was, I ran around a corner and “caught” a woman doing jumping jacks. The reason I know I caught her is because she stopped doing jumping jacks and began to march in place (like that’s less embarrassing). I’m not exactly sure why she felt embarrassed—but she definitely did. In my pain, there was a glimpse of happiness in being the “catcher”. Sometimes exercising can be embarrassing. After momentarily giggling at this lady I suddenly was embarrassed that my breasts were bouncing as I ran (okay, jogged) past her. I’m too insecure to wear a bra and too large not to.