It was Saturday night in New York City. I was not out painting the town, or hitting the clubs. I was there on business. I was there to achieve a goal, to accomplish something that I have long desired to do. I trained hard for this endeavor and I was ready. All except for one small detail.
Well. Two details. Two HUGE Details.
I need them.
I will NOT run without them.
I frantically sent a text message to my cousin who regularly runs braless, and let her know about my devastating discovery. The agony that I was feeling did NOT translate via text and she replied with a breezy, "just wear your bra."
I stared back at the small phone screen. She clearly did not understand and who could blame her. You can't fault a homeless person who fails to empathize with the millionaire whose diamond shoes are too tight. The same logic applies here.
"That is not possible." I whimper to no one in particular.
I learned a few thing that weekend. I learned that Duane Reade, the popular drug store chain in Manhattan, does NOT sell sports bras. I learned that although you can purchase a pair of pants made only of neoprene on the corner at 3AM, sports bras are much less readily available.
I did not sleep well my mind spinning, thinking of my dilemma. I pondered my options and came up with a few.
I would run the race in my Spanx, my suction cup tank top and the three underwire bras I had brought along for the weekend. Sure, I would likely suffer severe chaffing and bleeding but at least I wouldn't knock myself unconscious while I ran.
I would hide in the bushes of Central Park, lying in wait for some unsuspecting albeit well endowed and well supported female runner to pass by and I would take her down. I am not usually a violent person but desperate times called for desperate measures.
In the end we were able to find a fix and I wore several of her teeny tiny little laughable bras. Bras that would fit snugly on Barbies little sister, Skipper. I ran 6.2 miles with my girls being held up by barely enough lycra and spandex to fashion a swimmers cap but I did survive.
After the race my sweet cousin suggested I take the bras home after the race, restating the fact that she "hardly ever uses them." I thanked her but said I didn't think it would be fair, my bigger bras would just make fun of them.