Go change your shirt

The next time I go running in 90 percent humidity, I wish I would use my noggin and wear something besides a race shirt plastered with silkscreen graphics.

I went out this morning, wearing my “Dances With Dirt” race shirt, a crazy looking garment from a crazy race.

The front of the shirt shows a large, green skeleton gnawing on a bone, and lots of doo-dad graphics and text. The back features the race’s famous disclaimer in large type, warning participants about the risk of injury and death.

Front of the shirt.

Back of the shirt.

Yes, that’s all well and good, except when you’re sweating like a banshee. Then the shirt, with all the silkscreen lettering, sticks to your torso and won’t let go. It’s maddening.

More maddening yet is that I should have known better. I’ve been around the block a few times, so to speak. From now on, only plain running shirts on hot days!

This steamy run happened out at Fort Ben. I ran for 58 minutes on various trails, trying to keep cool in the woods during a wicked heat wave.

I was glad to see that the trails are starting to dry out after four or five days without rain. Still, there were enough soggy spots that I got my running shoes nice and muddy. But that comes with the territory. I’m not complaining.

Speaking of boneheaded moves, I also forgot to take a bandana or handkerchief with me on the run. Within 20 minutes of trotting up and down hills, I was drenched. Sweat was pouring down my face, burning my eyes. I had nothing to wipe my eyes with, but my wet shirt.

All in all, it was a tough run that shouldn’t have been that tough. Trail Boy just wasn’t using his noggin today.

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