The Underwear Affair

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When I’m running, I don’t like people.

I like my iPod, and only my iPod. I don’t want to run with you or anyone else. I especially don’t want to run with hundreds or thousands of other people. This is the way I am. This is why I don’t do races.

I know many racers. They do 10km runs and half marathons, and I know a fair number of marathoners as well. They love doing several races each year, and I say good for them. As for me, if I can’t win, then I don’t want to play.

And I can’t win. If I boogie I can finish a 10km in under 45 minutes, which is about 15 minutes behind the winner in a competitive race. I know it’s a messed up mentality, but it kind of makes me wonder why I should bother to pay a bunch of money, get up early and drive somewhere, get clustered together with a bunch of sweaty people jostling for position, and then push hard in the hopes of finishing in the top 30% of racers. It doesn’t work for me.

I know some people use races for motivation, but I’ve got that in spades. An hour to kill is all the motivation I need. That, and a charged up iPod.

My sister is different. She likes racing, but she’s a very kind-hearted soul and prefers to participate in fundraising races for various ailments. Last year she called me to see if I wanted to do something called “The Underwear Affair.”

“I don’t do races,” I said.

“This is different. It’s a real riot and not that competitive. You might even win.” That perked my ears up. I like winning. “It’s all about raising money for these ‘below the waist’ cancers that don’t get a lot of funding. You know, like prostate, colon, ovarian, cervical, testicular – even penis cancer!”

Penis cancer? What kind of sick God…? “Wait, you said fundraiser…”

“It’s not that big a deal. You email your contacts and Facebook people and you’ll hit the $300 minimum in no time. Mom is usually good for a hundred bucks.”

“I dunno,” I said. “I’m not really into this sort of thing…”

“It really is a lot of fun. It happens in the evening and there is this big BBQ and after party. This run gets lots of hot women who get really drunk afterwards.” My sister knows I am a happily married and faithful guy, but she also knows my hot buttons.

“Well…”

“Come on. It will be fun. I promise." Well, since she promised.

She lied. It was not fun.

Have you made a donation to my running profile yet? It’s tax deductible. What’s the freakin’ hold up? Reproductive organs are at stake here!

It wasn’t fun because it was a monsoon.

It had been raining hard in Calgary for days, and it was still pissing pigs and sheep on the night of the run. There were gigantic puddles and mud bogs everywhere. Before the race even started my shoes and socks were completely soaked through.

I had no idea where the start line was, and our time chips were only to identify our names as we crossed the finish line – they activated the second the gun went, not when we crossed the start line because it was a small group of 552 runners. Still, it took me almost a minute to get across the start line because I was towards the back of the pack. That pissed me off a little.

I had to dodge mud bogs and people running in their underwear (remember, it’s The Underwear Affair) to make my way towards the front of the pack. The path had been altered because parts of it were completely underwater and there were a lot of narrow switchbacks which slowed everyone down. We also caught up to the 5km walker group on the back stretch and had a choice of running through six-inch deep puddles or getting the corner of an umbrella in the eye. Because I’d been so far back at the start I had no idea where I was in the pack or how I was doing. I pushed myself pretty hard, but realized that I wasn’t doing that well.

When I hit kilometre nine I kicked it into a higher gear and passed a few more people, and me and another guy had a race for the finish over the last hundred metres, but he had more gas than I did and beat me there. Considering the late start and the conditions, my 46:52 time wasn’t that bad for an old fart with stubby legs.

I grabbed some water and rehydrated, then grabbed a beer so I could start dehydrating. I was halfway through my third beer when my sister crossed the finish line some time around the 75 minute mark. I never said she was speedy.

After everyone had finished they posted the race results and I came in 20^th out of 552. The winning time had been about 42 minutes by some lanky 6 foot 5 guy about half my age. I guess I did okay.

Now it was time for my reward. Now it was time for all the hotties to get drunk and start prancing around in their underwear.

They didn’t. Not only was it wet, but it was getting really cold, so everyone went home. What a bunch of party poopers. I guess the good part is that with the help of some generous folks I raised $670 to help prevent things like crotch and bum cancer.

Somehow, my sister talked me into doing it again this year. I guess I’m holding out hope that it will be hot. And sunny. And drunk. And scantily clad, and… you get the idea. Don’t worry, my wife and kids will be there cheering me on, so I promise to behave. I just like a good show.

I’ve raised $550 bucks as of this writing, and if you’ve read this far and don’t make a donation then you’re stealing from the Alberta Cancer Foundation. Well, not really, but it would be cool if you made a donation. Please?

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