Coming clean: if it didn’t get sweaty, it didn’t get washed.
Today’s run was on some backwoods dirt road, and comprised a 15′ warmup, 6×10′ at a pace I like to pretend is somewhere in the range of 10K pace (with 5′ easier trot between pieces), and then a 20′ cooldown. Puts me at 14-16 miles for the day. As we know, I’m mentally wimpy and tracks magnetically repel me, so I’ve come to prefer my perceived-effort style “speed” workouts.
Sometimes I feel a bit guilty about my habitual shunning of the track, but then I say to myself, “Heck, self, you never race on the track anyway.” What’s the point of driving myself into a salty puddle of neurosis over 100m-interval splits when I will never have such an objective luxury in a road race? As such, I justify my perceived-effort speed workouts with the hope that it’s probably a more efficient use of my legs, mind, and time to learn to feel a pace over varying terrain. Is there any credibility to this thought, or am I just being a pansy?
More importantly though, I’ve been wondering this for a while: do non-Sweaty Kids even need to do laundry on a regular basis?
I’ve evolved a policy wherein I really only bother washing clothes that
- a. Smell blatantly like feet, and
- b. Look like they’ve recently endured a monsoon.
In other words, they’ve been subjected to the Sweaty Kid workout and will be thenceforth relegated to hanging about my room and making it look like a shantytown while they dry and infuse the vicinity with the pleasant aroma of a gym locker. (I really don’t like leaving my sweaty clothes in a rotten bacteria-enabling pile, so I hang them up instead. Sometimes I rinse them out in the sink first, but by the time you get to that effort, you may as well just do an honest load of laundry).
Everyday underwear and socks, yes, those get suds-up regularly.
Everyday work clothes? Nope.
Black slacks? Never.
Cute going-out tops? Who are we kidding, when was the last time I had a social life that didn’t involve sneakers?
Sometimes khakis get a cursory spin through the suds, but that’s only because they betray my slob-like tendencies if I so much as incidentally color on them with a pencil while rushing to write down my grocery list, having employed my thigh as a last-minute backing device for the flimsy piece of paper I will inadvertently poke my writing implement through:
“Let’s see… almonds, almond butter, walnuts, pecans, cashews, peanut butter –
[Confirmed: I’m nuts?]
A swift visual comparison of Sweaty Kid workplace pants:
Woooof. This is getting gross.
I understand that undue smelliness isn’t generally tolerated, so I try to keep the laundry situation all within some semblance of order. But I’ll be honest: life gets in the way, sweaty clothes get all up in my hamper, and regular clothes get set aside with grand aspirations of finally being washed someday.
Maybe next week.
Really though: am I alone in this? Or are there others out there who are secretly locked in a perpetual quandary about how to prioritize sort-of-clean laundry?