You know sometimes iPods/iTunes' shuffle setting/radios (for those of us who still use them, i.e., not the Class of 2016) can sense your mood and play the right song for you?
A few days ago, I discovered that my Google Reader, or the bloggers who populate it, is the same way.
During my return run in Des Moines, I was looking forward not just to running in my new home, but also to wearing clean workout gear while doing so — I'd washed up two full sets of gears during my "vacation" in my hometown.
TANGENT ALERT: I'm not sure whether this is a personal quirk or a commonality to athletes, but washing workout clothes makes me so conflicted.
Mine definitely demand to be washed, don't get me wrong. During this summer especially. I've noticed the scent (to be delicate) of prior workouts when I pull my shirts on, and, frighteningly, I've also smelled the current workout as I'm standing still, such as at a stoplight.
I don't take any weird pleasure in noticing how stinky my running clothes are, so I wash them, but always with the gloomy, Eeyore-like thought that soon enough, they'll be nasty again. Or, that I might grow irrationally protective of their cleanliness and not work out in them, because they're clean.
In conclusion, I overanalyze laundry.
END TANGENT, RETURN TO POINT: On Monday, I pulled on one of those fresh-and-clean T-shirts ... and my smile faded to a grimace. I could still smell sweat on the shirt!
My devoted runner friend Shayne had mentioned this happening. And apparently, so had the women at Another Mother Runner. Their Tell Me Tuesday question from last week had been about how to get the stink out of running clothes, and the responses were posted the same day I noticed my clothing issue.
I may try the soaking recommendation. I also might try the line-dry-outdoors one. But I know I'll try the quit-caring-about-it suggestion. Hey, if other runners are proudly sporting the evidence of their effort, why should I worry? It's a workout, not a beauty pageant.