The night before a marathon, a time-honored event takes place in hotel rooms and living rooms and bed rooms.
The Flat Runner takes shape.
Everything from tip to toe is laid out: hat, socks, undies, nutrition, bib, outfit, electronics, sunscreen, extra toilet paper and wipes.
I’m getting ready to travel and as I do so, it strikes me that running has helped me pack.
I don’t want my stuff to get wet, so i’ve lined my bag with a trashbag. (Trash bags keep away the morning dew and wind on race day.)
My running clothes can also be my swim suit:
I don’t want to lose my ribbon belt, so I wrapped it around my church dress:
…which will unroll to this:
My running skirt will also be worn under my skirts and dresses. Why? Because chub-rub hurts and lycra between the thighs is necessary, yo.
My sports bra doesn’t give me Uni-Boob, so that I can alternate it out from my regular bra on laundry days:
…say it with me: “Noooooo yoooooniiiibooooooob.” Also, it has no underwire or fiddley padding so it will squash down nicely in my bag.
And I’m super glad I went to Navy basic training to learn to fold shirts:
And everything gets rolled up:
and put in the bag with some dryer sheets until I unpack and repack and unpack and repack the requisite 17 times before we actually leave.
Where are we going? I have no idea. I have a passport and the husband has time off so away we go.
…after I find some granola bars and extra toilet paper, just in case…