A 10k...

I ran the Capital 10,000 today in a speedo and a bright yellow wig. That's essentially all you really need to know. I'm not writing because I ran a personal best [43:00 -- slower than my 10k in the Austin Tri], or because it was a great race itself. I'm writing because I ran in a speedo and bright yellow wig. As you might guess, that changes things.

The wig itself is thick cotton, not breathable or aerodynamic. Think of wearing a wool sweater on your head. That's what it felt like. Occasionally, some hair would blow into my eye or mouth. But I still kept it on for the entire 10k. That counts for something, I hope.

But the actual race experience itself changes when you wear something like that. People cheer louder for you. In fact, everybody cheers for you, because everybody sees you, can't help but laugh at you. One guy asked me if I was drunk. I said "I probably should be." Another told me I had a great ass. What do you say to that other than "thanks"?

The toughest part of the day, no exaggeration, was twenty minutes before the start of the race. I stood there, no different than anyone else, sweat pants, long-sleeve t-shirt, and running shoes. One of twenty thousand. Just another runner. And then I took off my sweatpants and put on my wig and all that changed. Everyone looks, stares, smirks, even laughs outright. A lot of "oh my God's" as you walk by. Lots of people nudging their buddies to point you out. Lots of people trying to be discreet and take photos. It's difficult before the race, when all you can do is be still and stand there and have people stare. But what else did I really expect?

As I was making my way to the starting line, a woman with a microphone came up and informed me she was live on KLBJ radio, and said she was interviewing people and would I be interested in answering a few questions. I said I would. Here's how it went [as honestly as I can remember]:

Her: I'm here with, (then to me), what's your name?

Me: Ed.

Her: I'm here with Ed, minutes before the 10k is about to get underway. He's wearing a yellow wig and a speedo and that's about all. I've gotta ask, what made you want to race in something like that?

Me: Well, because you and I both know I look good in it.

We both laughed.

Her: You from Austin?

Me: No, but I live here.

Her: Do you train in this?

Me: No, I wish. This was just a game-day decision.

Her: So it doesn't make you any faster?

Me: Probably slower. I'm just wearing it because I'm not here to win this race. I'm here to have a good time, enjoy myself, that's kind of what a race like this is about for me.

The interview ended rather soon after that. I later passed by a woman who said "I heard you on the radio!" I guess she hadn't seen anybody else in a yellow wig/speedo.

It's an interesting thing to look back on. To think about how many people you made laugh or smile. About all the times you laughed yourself. To think about why the hell you did it in the first place. To think about all the photos you're in, for no other reason than what you're wearing [and what you're not wearing].

I woke up today at 7:30, and at 8:30 I was wearing nothing but a bright yellow wig and a speedo so I could run 6.2 miles. If that doesn't make me part of the 'Lunatic Fringe', I don't know what does.