Yesterday I went jogging. It was cold so I bundled up and wore long thermal underwear; however, because I don't necessarily like their scratchy, itchy feel, I wore a pair of Lycra underneath. So, I had three layers on: Lycra, thermal long johns and running pants. "How ingenious," I thought to myself, in the kitchen, as I stretched. "This'll keep me nice and warm." After the final calf stretch, off I went -- a quick little jaunt around town.
Not fifty feet from the house the problem started. As I bounced up and down, off my ass, my long johns began to slide. The Lycra was apparently too slippery to hold them up. It was the oddest feeling. While my running pants were still up, it felt as if my pants were falling down. To my running pants, I gave a quick feel. "Yes. Thank God they were not sliding."
The more I ran, inside my running pants, the lower the thermals dropped till finally, not even a half mile in, the were quite literally around my knees slowing me down. "Damn it!" I said still running and casually trying to place my hands down my pants to yank up the thermals inside. I had to do this as inconspicuously as possible, I was on a busy street. Yet I couldn't get a good grip. I took a right down a side street and for a better grasp, took off my gloves. I don't make it a habit of putting my hands down my pants in public but this was ridiculous. As a quick as possible, and trying not to lose my stride, I shoved my hands down my pants, lifted the thermals back up. "There. That's better."
This time, maybe a hundreds yards from the school in front of which I shoved my hands down my pants (I should have picked a better place but couldn't stand it anymore), again the thermals began their gradual descent. "Mother...!" To prevent further slippage, from outside my running pants I was able to hold onto the thermals and keep their decline from gaining momentum. For a bit, I held it off yet I couldn't jog very well. Now skipping, I began this on again off again process: I let go, tried to jog normally; they slide. I would then hold on to prevent further lowering. For about half a mile this went on till finally their progressive ebb could no longer be prevented and once again my thermals were around my knees. "God damn it!" I yelled, feeling like one of those teenagers that I shake my head at. The ones that expose their boxer shorts while wearing extra baggy pants tied around their knees. Luckily my running pants remained up.
At this point I didn't care. I needed to get a good run in and this was just getting in my way. 'The cemetery!' I thought to myself. I could make it there. So I quickened my pace, feeling as if I was going to trip. In private I could at least give myself a good tug. "Dead people don't give a shit if I put my hands down my pants." Finally, next to Joshua Peabody, who died in 1892, and his wife Mary, I stopped. In my pants I went. I grabbed a hold of the friggin' Hanes thermals and pulled them up so far I thought I was going to rip them out. Up near my chest they snapped. I pulled my sweatshirt back down, repositioned my running pants, said so long to the Peabodys and off I went.
Like an old man wearing his pants too high, the rest of my jog went without a hitch.