An unnaturally quiet Saturday morning. I go for a long run and the streets are deserted. Everyone must be sleeping off an excess of Olympic spirit. I am roadtesting my new cut-off leggings, which were expensive (for leggings) but are apparently full of technology - able to breathe (they have LUNGS!) and wick (they can absorb!). This is beyond my expectations - I am just concerned that they will either a) fall down, so I will have to be constantly hitching them up or b) ride up, so I will be having to pull each leg down as bunched material chafes and annoys.
My money was well-spent. They stay in place, they are stretchy-comfortable, and they are as flattering as such things can be. Plus they have fluorescent bits, and a hidden pocket for keys or enough money for an ice-cream (balance in all things).
So excited by all of this that I run further than I would normally. Get home. Sweat. Lie on the floor and breathe. Then I wick some water, via a glass and my throat. Cool down. Dry off.
My leggings are good. But I am even better.
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