It's Wednesday night at 6pm as I type this. It's colder than it should be in August but I wanted to relax on my deck so here I am. On my deck. In my bright pink Keen sandals, my über sexy black and blue compression pants, my t-shirt and my jacket. With my glass of red wine and my trusty water bottle. With my laptop, my iPhone and my iPad. Feeling a little ridiculous and hoping that the neighbours don't spot me.
Weird how standards change depending on what we're doing isn't it?
If someone honks at me when I'm running through a snow storm - I'll grin and wave.
If a co-worker says 'hey, I saw you running last night during that crazy rain storm" I'll smile and talk about how refreshing it is to run in the rain.
If someone asks why I have goggle marks on my face when I get to work, I have no problem explaining my morning swim routine.
I'm happy to sit in Tim Hortons after a Sunday morning bike ride, sweaty, with crazy hair, wearing those awful padded cycling shorts that just don't look good on anyone.
And yet when all I want to do is sit on the deck on a chilly August evening, I'm a little embarrassed by my outfit and hope no one spots me.
I'd rather run into someone at the market on Saturday mornings when I'm dripping wet and stinky after a run.
Maybe it's because there's a certain stigma attached to people who run. They run, which is bizarre enough, so running in awful weather or wearing running clothes in odd places just reinforces the stereotype.
Whereas when I'm sitting on my deck, I look like a neighbour. A neighbour who sits on her deck in the cold wearing weird looking pants and a jacket. With fingers tinged blue from the cold. And a red nose.
Perhaps it's time to head inside...