Ooh. I have taken the commitment plunge. I am now the proud, and really rather anxious and daunted owner of a club running vest. I get to wear my own colours of danger!
No more of this half-hearted, give it a go, borrow a vest, sort of mentality. I’ve made the commitment. I properly belong to my running club now!
No idea when I’ll next wear the vest, i.e. run for club. But it is compulsory attire when racing, so at least I’m sartorially prepared. To complement the top, black seems to be de rigueur on the bottom half. Maybe I’ll try to find something yellow (although I’m told the colour is gold…) to strike a different pose. Always want to rail against conformity, me. Or at least try to raise a smile, somehow.
It’s still hanging on the outside of my wardrobe, reminding me of what I’ve done. Stomach feels a little pit-like every time I catch sight of it. I really ought to put it out of sight, ergo out of mind.