By Emilie L David, 11 December 2011
In the depth of my despair during the summer, preparing for Chicago and hating every dehydrating mile, I decided to sign myself up for something that was so terrifying, I would no longer fear the marathon. Which is why, one month after my marathon, with my less wonky hip and my legs that hadn’t run in weeks, I found myself in Reston, in a tank top and boxer shorts, getting ready to run the Nearly Naked Mile.
Think what you will about underwear races. That they are for a bunch of exhibitionists. Or drunks. Or drunk exhibitionists. You won’t really be wrong. But that’s not what prompted me to sign up for this race. I’m about to fall over the precipice into middle age, and on the run, thanks to past sins, age, and gravity, there is a sloppily choreographed movement of bits and pieces that really no part of the public should be confronted with. It helped that the entry fee for this race funds a firefighter’s foundation for burn victims, and that the theme for the Nearly Naked Mile is about being comfortable in your own skin. I can get behind this, because who, if they aren’t lucky enough to feel that way naturally, hasn’t been working out so they can feel good about what they’ve got. Still, I made sure I was pretty much covered as much as I usually am on a summer run.
The other thing that helped quell my terror was that there were awards for costumes at this race. That meant people would be wearing something. Also, it was at one of those fancy shopping Commons, which means there would be clean bathrooms, coffee, parking, and most importantly, bars. Finally, and I think this is the crucial key to any race that is short and barely clothed, there were 3 heats – one for the sub-7 minute milers, one for the sub-10 minute milers, and one for the rest, ensuring there would not be nearly naked mayhem and stranger danger contact as runners lapped each other and squeezed around each other on the double-loop course.
So if I was not in it to get nearly naked, why was I there? For the free can of Pabst? To ogle other middle aged runners who looked just as uncomfortable as I about standing around in boxers? For the firemen? Ok, I can’t lie – the firemen were really maybe a nice freemium.
In truth, it was the distance. One mile. One beautifully brief mile, and then I would be done. There would be no stopping. There would be that marvelous feeling of just going and not ‘saving it for later.’ There was no way I could fail. Or even really sweat!
The costumes were varied and some of them even clever. And some were just mistakes. Here, based on what I saw, laughed at, appreciated, got terrorized by, and had malfunction on me, are some clothing suggestions for your next undie race:
1. If you have the body for it, it’s a cute idea to wear nude colored underwear that you have pinned silk ivy vines to in the manner of Eve, but for god’s sake, if you plan on actually running, don’t pick a strapless bra!
2. The nude bodystocking that you can buy off of dancewear sites is only for the very brave, but should maybe be left to actual ballerinas. Period.
3. This is where those towel wraps, the ones they sell in Lillian Vernon that are stitched at the top with little shoulder ties that don’t make any sense because how long does one hang about in a towel anyway, actually come in handy. They fit the bill of being nearly naked PLUS they are handy for mopping yourself off with after the race.
4. Sporty swim suits are a fairly good choice – they are at least supportive.
5. String bikinis are none of the above.
6. Unless you are male, and then, the string bikini could win you a trophy.
7. Along the lines of number 6, if you are in it to win it (for costume) and male, the more embarrassing the better.
8. If you are female, the more embarrassing, the more embarrassing.
9. While cotton boxers might feel safely modest, unlike shorts that are actually made for running, they will ride north, resulting in the single least flattering finishing photo you have ever had (and that counts the one where the giant glob of snarf has caught the light of the flash and is glimmering like a sputastic diamond on your face).
10. If you are in it to win it for speed, I will just say that the top two finishers in each of the men and women’s elite heats were scandalously clad in: running shorts and singlet.
The thing about short, barely there costume races, is that they are fun, and funny. Running around a ritzy shopping complex in your underwear, breathing hard, laughing, trying not to get beaten by an 8 year old in a swimsuit or an 80 year old in a cape and then washing down your embarrassment with a free, cheap beer in the middle of the plaza where other families are trying to have a nice wholesome afternoon of Christmas shopping and ice skating is just plain inappropriate. Which is why I’ll be running one again next year. Besides, I want that nearly naked Barbie Doll trophy.
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