It’s that time of the year when I start taking my cats to get their lion haircut for the spring, and spring-cleaning. Taking the cats to get their haircut is easy; tackle the spring-cleaning is a little harder. Because one part of the spring-cleanings is putting away my winter wardrobe to make room for my bright summer dresses and a good explanation to my husband why I need more closet space when I “haven’t buy anything in years”. As my little lions look alike cats roaming around the room helping me, I started my Odette’s cleaning machine. Few hours later, the Rubbermaid storing boxes for my summer shorts and dresses were now filled with my winter jackets and sweaters. But somehow there were few of my winter running gears still need a home for the summer months. I was debating either to hog my husband’s space to store my last few winter running jackets or just hang them up somewhere in the other closets. When I tried to open one of my husband’s drawers to squeeze in my last few items, I was about to suggest to my husband that he needed to donate all those t-shirts that he doesn’t even wear anymore. Then I realized they were all my running t-shirts that I had stored from last winter in my husband's drawer. As I started to put all the cotton shirts in the pile for Goodwill, I chuckled to myself because I haven’t worn a cotton shirt to run in since the invention of “dri-fit”, a real fancy name for polyester. I recognized one of the white t-shirts with faded picture of a pair of sneakers and the helmet with wings from my very first 10k in 1985. The print is now faded but I can still see the date, it was June 8, 1985, on the back of the shirt. The shirt is small when "small" was really a true small not like the today supersize "small".
It was the day Mather Air Force Base was having a 5K/10K race before the air show. I was planning to run the 5k but one of the runners explained to me that part of the 10k course is on the taxiway. “No way” I remember saying. I haven’t run more than three miles per day but yet I registered to do the 10K, the 6-point-2-miles. Because I wanted to run on the taxiway, the same taxiway that my husband drove on when he was behind the stick of a T-37 or the B-52 (the plane not the music group).
I don’t recall my time or how I did after the race but I remember the first hour of my 6-point-2-miles t-shirt. I remember putting on that brand new cotton t-shirt in the car before the race. The weather was perfect, the sky was deep blue and so clear that you can see the Sierra. I remember I was running on the taxiway at Mather AFB looking at the B-52s and the KC-135s parking by the alert area of the base, and other airplanes parking along the hangers ready for the air show.
I remember how I kept looking down at my shirt and what a beautiful shirt it was for $15, the race registration fee. I kept rubbing my hands against the shirt, the shirt felt so nice and soft. I remember I spilled some water on the six-point-two-miles thick cotton shirt at the first water station and I was afraid it may shrink. I remember I skipped the second water station because I didn’t want to spill any more water on me and ruin the shirt. I wanted to wear the shirt to the air show that day. By the time I got to the last water station, I was tired, I was hot and I was very thirsty. I stopped to drink the water and was so careful not to spill any drop of it on my thick six-point-two-miles cotton shirt. Then a clumsy runner from behind threw his half-full paper cup toward the trashcan but he missed, and I could feel the cold water running down my brand new thick heavy cotton shirt against my back like a waterfall. I was about to stop and show him what happened, then I heard all the noises of people cheering nearby "good job daddy", "almost there", "go guys", "stay together now", "around the corner and you're there"... By then, the guy who splashed his water on me, was a few step ahead of me, I picked up my pace along with my heavy feet and passed him so he can see what he did to my shirt. As I passed him he didn't seem to notice my thick and heavy cotton shirt was soaking with water from his cup. He turned his head, smiled and said to me "good job, took me at least 10 minutes to catch up to you". He didn't seem like he did anything wrong. I noticed his new shirt was soaked as well with his own sweat, yuck! But he didn’t seem to mind.
The corner or the finish line was nowhere to be found or heard and half a mile seemed like hundreds. I was trying to stay in front of him; I wanted him to see my pristine shirt was now stained from his water cup. I don’t recall my time when I crossed the finish line. But I remember the man who splashed his water on my very first 10k t-shirt holding his young daughter came up to me near the finish line, gave me a high-five and with his gentle and tired smile said to me "thank you".
The shirt is now faded and thin, it has been to many places with me in the last two decades. I don't wear it anymore but yet, it still got a premier spot in the drawer again this year.
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