Flashing Bumpkinsville

Any woman who runs knows that the most vital piece of equipment is their sports bra.  Even if you’re lolloping along, three legged donkey style, you have to have one to save ouchiness, droopiness and, in some cases, black eyes.  I’ve said it before, but as a reminder, you pretty much need to be a contortionist to get into one.  To help explain this post, Paddington kindly volunteered to model mine so you can see the problem (Norman was having none of it.  He might still be traumatised from his bra/bungee experience though, so I think we can let him off):

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See?  You have to clip the bottom and the top and make sure you have those thingys in the middle in the right place.

So anyway, this morning I went for what is becoming my regular Tuesday morning pre-work run.  I try to set myself a challenge each week.  Last week I finally managed 5km without stopping to walk.  Today’s challenge was to do the same, but in a better time (to do that 5km I’d gone so slowly I was waiting for the person on my app who tells me how fast I’m going to make some sort of sarcastic comment, so it shouldn’t have been too hard).  It seemed that other plans were afoot though.  Less than 1km in I felt a bit of a ping and a sense of freedom in my chest area.  I tried to grapple with my straps as I ran (that time was important!) but there was no chance of any contortionist moves while moving.  In fact, it became very clear that I couldn’t fix this while still actually wearing the bra.

And that is why I took this unofficial path:

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And literally ended up half naked in this field:

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It wasn’t quite the challenge I anticipated this morning, but it was a different start to a Tuesday… :o)

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