What Would You Do For A Shirt?

Would you run 8 miles for a shirt?  I would.  Actually, I did.

For pretty much every race you sign up for you get a bib, some water on and at the end of the course, and sometimes an apple or Power Bar when you’re done (which by the way, is the only time that Power Bars taste good).  You also get a shirt.  The shirt is meant as a gift from the race organizers, but when it comes right down to it, it’s advertising for both the race and their sponsors that you actually had to pay for.  The shirts can be short sleeved or long, cool looking or not (usually not), cotton or “tech”.

In the 64 races I’ve completed (true number.  I keep all the bibs and I just counted them), I’ve obviously gotten a boatload of shirts.  I got most of them in my husband’s size and gave them to him.  I figured that he’s been so cool about all of my training and racing schedules that I would do the race, and he could have the swag.  But after a while even he had too many, so I started getting them in the smallest adult size they had and giving them to my daughter to sleep in.  And I think even she has had her fill; I think my 5 year old son is going to own a lot of very large t-shirts by the end of the year.

Woman Behind Me Wearing Race Shirt!

Race shirts have gotten an odd reputation. Some people are disgusted by them, saying that the shirts should be given to the homeless since so many people don’t like them (or have collected 64 of them and have hit their shirt saturation point).  Others are superstitious, saying that you NEVER wear a race shirt until after you complete the race (though this was likely started by a guy who sustained a career ending injury while wearing his shirt during a race).

I’ve kept some of the shirts.  I have the very first one I ever got from a 4 mile race in Central Park on July 14, 2009 (I’m not such a genius that I’d remember the date – well, actually I am and I do – but it’s also on the shirt).  It’s a white tech shirt so by now it is pretty ratty, but I have a feeling I will keep it forever.  Others I’ve gotten for me and kept just because they’re kind of cool looking or they fit really well and have fallen into my regular repertoire of workout clothes.  I even had a shirt from last year’s NYC Triathlon even though I didn’t compete.  I was still injured, but I had volunteered.  That race won’t give you back your money if you have to withdraw, so when the woman looked at my boot with a broken foot inside it, she handed me one of the shirts and said, “Here, take it.  You ended up paying $250 for this.”

I have 4 other race shirts that I’ve kept.  They’re not the prettiest items of clothing I own, but each serves as a kind of a symbol.  They are the 4 shirts from the 4 marathons I have completed.  The first one from the 2011 NY Marathon is simply a symbol of my ability to succeed when confronted with a big challenge.  I picked up my 2012 shirt the day before the NY Marathon was cancelled, but I kept it.  I actually ran 26.2 miles in Central Park with a friend on what would have been marathon day (and I actually wore the shirt.  I believe in the superstition of NEVER wearing it until after you’ve completed the race, but at that point I figured that not much worse could happen after Superstorm Sandy).  I kept that shirt because it reminds me that even if you can work really hard for something, life may get in your way but it doesn’t take away the effort and devotion you put into it.  My shirt

Marathon shirts, in order

from the 2013 NY Marathon is pretty special.  That shirt was earned after crutches, 13 weeks in a boot, endless deep water runs and the support of more people than I could ask for.  If the 2012 shirt reminds me that sometimes life gets in the way of our accomplishments, then the 2013 shirt reminds me that sometimes we can take the road blocks in our lives and climb right over them anyway (maybe even giving that obstacle the finger as we surmount it, just because we feel like it).  And the shirt I have from the 2013 Brooklyn Marathon is a symbol of how far I’ve gotten from the fat girl that would drive 20 minutes to the only Krispy Kreme in southern Massachusetts to a person who is fit, healthy, and confident enough to be able to run 2 marathons just 2 weeks apart.

Back to why I ran 8 miles for a shirt.  Every now and then (as any of my regular readers know), I doubt myself, sabotage myself, or just forget how far I’ve come.  But the other day I was at the gym, and I ran into a woman whose name I don’t know.  It was after our workouts.  I was out of the shower and mostly dressed when she came up to me (which is good.  I get it that we all have to get naked together in the same room, but if you’re going to strike up a conversation with me, I ask that there is some piece of material in between us).  She said, “I just wanted to tell you; I have shirt envy.”  I looked down at the plain white oxford I was wearing that day and then looked up confused.  She giggled and said, “No, not that one.  You were working out in a shirt that said ‘MARATHONER’ on the back.  I told my trainer that my goal is to own a shirt like that one day.”  Now, whoever thought that a shirt that means a lot to you could also mean something to someone else?

Yesterday I did my 8 mile long run.  It was tough.  I’ve had to run a lot on treadmills (and am currently not on speaking terms with Mother Nature), and outdoor runs are just a lot harder and I'm not used to them.  I was cold, then hot, then sore. But I did it, and I know I’ll do next week’s long run and the week after that.  I have to be ready for the NYC Half Marathon on March 16^th.  It will be my first race of the season, and I want it to be a good one.  And besides, I want to know what color the shirt is.