This is the story of a pair of shorts that seems to find no ending. It all started over ten years ago. After surviving the shock wave of a difficult breakup, my morale was down and I really needed to set my focus on something positive. A friend of mine sold me his old mountain bike. I loved it, still ride it once in a while. The key to comfort on a bike depends on the padded tight shorts you wear. I was not ready to ride around in spandex; I needed something to cover up a bit.
At MEC, I bought some shorts, navy colored, tough fabric, seemed reliable. I wore them in the summer on my bike but also just because they were comfortable. At the time, I was wearing 36 inches. I’m now at 34, maybe even on the low side. They served for sports, leisure, driving around, on hikes and on beaches. They were my goto, my everything shorts.
The years have passed, I got into running. I started with 5 and 10km. Made my way up to longer distances. Those shorts have been worn for training and for races. I run races with what I wear on training; I read that online, so it must be true. On my initial commitment, i wore them throughout a Spartan race. My first half marathon, on the Jacques Cartier bridge, they served their purpose, followed by many more. Almost ten MEC races have seen their amazing fabric. The deep pockets to carry the cellphone, car keys, many Gu gel, id card. Too many unnecessary items. A year later, I wore them in New York city for my first experience at a marathon. Six months later, another 42.2 in the mythical Boston.
They stood the test of time and the only thing visible is a slight lost of color. No tear, no holes, not even in the pockets. I use a belt to keep them in place, but they still are in great shape, as the man who wears them.
I should move on, I know but I am loyal, even to some old, outdated shorts.