I'm back to judging my fellow west-siders' clothing choices — for workouts, that is.
On Sunday, sometime in the middle of the afternoon, I spotted a runner wearing a pullover jacket. Three-quarter-length sleeves, but a jacket nevertheless.
I admired her strength for running in the sun, during the hottest part of the day, in the humidity, in June in Iowa ... but my T-shirt-clad torso broke out into a sympathy sweat.
Sure, sometimes one can underestimate the weather conditions, but I'm pretty sure we'd been in at least the 80s, if not 90s, for a few days. Am I a tough northerner? Or are my neighbors just trying to sweat off all their excess weight?
Then, on Monday, I found myself behind a teenage boy on the bike path; he was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, like me, but unlike me, he had his entire rear end hanging out of those shorts.
Never mind walking with your pants halfway down your legs — how do you balance on a bike like that?
I'll say this, though: I've made some questionable wardrobe decisions for workouts and beyond, but these folks have me feeling pretty smart.