Are you really leaving the house wearing THAT?!

Sorry to those of you who came by earlier today and found this blog set to private. Seems that a link was floating around SOMEONE's office, and it wasn't mine. Out of respect for the interested parties, in this post the characters known as Dirk and Diggler will be played by (who else), Mark Wahlberg, and the part of Big Red will be played by Molly Ringwald. Enjoy.

Alternate names for this post:

Scotch Tape: No Longer Just for Wrapping Presents
More Ass Crack and Back Hair than I Bargained For
I Swear, I Wasn't Looking!

First of all, I have to say that I have some of the coolest friends and readers in the whole, wide world. When I sent out a half-assed e-mail and threw together a blog post in less than 20 minutes asking for money for Cradles to Crayons, I thought I would be lucky if I raised $100, let alone met the minimum of $250 in the one day I had to raise it before the race. But my friends came through, and within 7 hours I had made the $250 minimum, and by the next morning I had hit $365!!! Your generosity, especially in these tough financial times really, really touched me. I would like to extend a special thanks to

Jen (who I can't wait to meet in Orlando)
Angry (aka Hater – your glutes may be better than mine, but your ass is grass in the moomoo contest in Disney)
Warrior Woman (who has been one of my greatest supporters in ALL my crazy ideas)
Iron Bob (who knows a thing or two about freezing his b@//$ off)
Damon (my own personal Jack Daniels)
Maggs (who could probably have worn a swim suit today without even busting a goosebump over there in Kona)
And Claire B (the cloaked reader in the shadows who shares my name and I know not what else!)

If I missed anyone, I'm sorry. Many people donated with only first names or under assumed names, and it was hard to place everyone!

As my friend (who we'll call Princess because that's what I call her) and I walked towards the start (just blocks from the Boston Marathon finish line), the thought crossed my mind that this may be my stupidest idea to date. I'd had some stupid ones, but running down the street in my underwear in Boston in December really was pushing it. Although it had warmed up from the 24º it was when I woke up (16º with wind chill), it hadn't by much. The temperature was only in the high 20's, and though it would be warmer than the 10-mile run I'd done the night before at 23º, this time I was going to be pretty much naked. At least I was doing this for a damned good cause: warm clothes for kids that have to live in this inhospitable climate. And at least I wasn't in this one alone.

I had spoken to Big Red earlier that morning. "I jogged in front of the mirror, and I could see my fat jiggling!" she accused. Like this was my fault?!
"Wait, you jogged in front of your mirror?!" I asked.
"She jogged in front of the mirror?!" Princess repeated.
"Well yeah," Red said. "Didn't you? Don't miss the point!"
"No," I said. "I guess I don't have a lot of mirrors at my house."

Princess knew the way to the bar where registration was held, but it was pretty hard to miss. It was the only bar on Boylston Street where the men smoking outside the door were in speedos. It was still only 12:00, one hour to the start, but the bar was already packed to the rafters with people in bathing suits. Drunk people in bathing suits to be more specific. Many of them looked like they'd been there for hours. Who knows what clothes they had showed up in, because they were already stripped down to their speedos and bikinis and drinking glasses of scotch and bourbon and yelling the kinds of incoherent things drunk people yell when they're excited. One girl who found herself pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling window either by choice or by accident was giving a skin show to the people in the street waiting to get in. Everyone in the street was still dressed... so far. I was beginning to realize that this was really the kind of event that one has to do drunk. Being outside in a bathing suit in December? Being in public in a bathing suit??? What was I thinking?

Princess and I took one look into the bar and decided to go somewhere with a shorter bathroom line and fewer drunk people. Princess has been trying to get off the sauce herself since September and we keep each other company on Gchat all day at work. Letting off steam with her is probably a huge reason why I didn't relapse when things were looking so bleak this fall, and I like to think I've been a positive influence on her as well. Neither of us wanted to be shoved in shoulder-to-shoulder with 400 drunk people in their underwear for an hour. By the time we got back to the line to get inside, it had grown and it looked even more crowded inside. Where the girl had been giving the skin show 20 minutes ago, there was not an angry looking redhead in her place with a red and green Santa hat and a bourbon on the rocks in one hand. With her other hand she was banging on the window trying to get my attention. It was Red. She signaled to me to look at my phone. Three messages from Red, the last one saying, "YOU'RE NOT HERE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Yeah right I'd miss the chance to see Red run down the street in downtown Boston in her underwear, even if I had to be there to do it with her! They weren't letting non-runners into the bar since it was CLEARLY filled well past capacity, so Princess waited outside while I elbowed my way to registration and collected my t-shirt. Red collected her two friends, who we'll call Dirk and Diggler, and we went into the bar next door which also had a room for Speedo runners. It was empty. It was probably the best decision we made all day... considering the circumstances. Maybe the only good decision we made all day. With an abundance of personal space we stripped down to our outfits and Red, Dirk, and Diggler had another round of bourbon. I realized yet again that I was stupid to think that running this thing sober would be a good idea, and even stupider to think that I could stand in front of a camera in my underwear without several shots of liquid courage. I have taken the liberty of doctoring any photos that I find particularly unflattering. Also, at Red's request I have photoshopped obstructions in front of her stomach in any pictures where her stomach is not already covered in some way.

Oh. My. God. None of us can believe that we're doing this! Quote by Dirk 5 seconds before this picture was taken: "Wow, Claire, you're not a very tall person, are you???"

For those of you who live in warm climates, this is what White people look like in Boston in December: PASTY! (Note: Redis standing on her tip-toes to make her legs look better and to make me look shorter!)
Not the best angle for my arms, but trust me, I can give Red the swimming dynamo a run for her money in the Best Arms competition!

Princess agreed to watch our stuff, and as 4 people's jackets, sweaters, and yes, pants came off it became clear that it would be too much for Princess to carry out to Newbury Street all by herself. So Princess agreed to stay with our stuff down in the basement of the bar alone a full bar of cheap drinks. I tried to insist that we take all our valuables out of our pockets and put them in her purse so that she could go outside, but she insisted. Princess earns my everlasting respect for sitting at the bar alone for the next half hour drinking water, even after the bartender offered her anything on the house for being such a diligent coat-watcher. Even when the dirty old man offered to buy her a drink.

I put on a red hat and a green scarf and Red, Dirk, Diggler, and I left Princess and went next-door to the skin bar and barely had enough time to clear the foyer before they started ushering us outside again. What the hell?! It's only 12:45! I don't want to be standing out there for 15 minutes!!! But we had no choice. We walked back out the door, and I screamed. I was glad that I'd had the foresight to put scotch tape over my nipples to avoid a severe case of "cold runner" syndrome. For 15 minutes Red, Dirk, Diggler and I hopped around in the crowd of other hopping people in their bathing suits trying to keep warm. Dirk had brought a flask, and they passed it around the group eagerly. I wished I could join in. It was 29º outside, but only 16º with the wind chill. We took pictures and Red made friends with everyone around us, of course. She was in heaven in a crowd full of young men in banana hammocks.

God, I look old! I can't believe that the bouncer scrutinized my ID so closely! And yes. It was 29º outside at that moment. And we are in our underwear.

Finally, we started moving. Everyone started singing, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaaaaaay!" I could feel things jiggling, things that are usually covered by a pair of shorts.
"RUN!" Red yelled in my ear. We had to yell to be heard over all the screaming and whooping and singing.
"I'M TRYING!" I yelled back. "IT'S TOO CROWDED." So Red elbowed her way forward, and then the path closed behind her. By the time I'd caught up with her, the group was... STOPPING! We were right at the front and I was hardly breathing hard. What gives?!

We got through the first verse of Jingle Bells, then everyone STOPPED and started doing jumping jacks! Oh my god! They weren't going to let us run this whole thing through! They hadn't closed the streets, and we had to stop every 2 blocks so that the cars in front of us could clear the traffic lights up ahead before we caught up, and so that the people in the back could catch up so that we weren't taking up too much of the street at once. We ran another couple of blocks and then everyone found a small space to lie down on the ground and we all did pushups. I got out 13 before we got up and started running again, this time singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. We must have had to stop 4 times in the 5 blocks before the turn-around.

Me in the foreground.

It wasn't unbearably cold most of the time, but every minute or so an icy gust of wind flew through the skyscrapers at a million miles per hour and blew my scarf out of the way. Each and every time that 16º wind hit my core, I screamed. For the most part, though, the cold wasn't unbearable. I had felt just as miserable running in sweaty clothes on a cold, blustery, windy day. When we turned around I thought that the wind would be to our back, but nope. The wind plans for occasions like this one, and we had a headwind in both directions.

Now the runners were chanting, "We're not drunk enough for this!" every time we stopped. One of the police officers outside the bar this morning had told Princess that the year before they had had to put sawdust down on Boylston street because so many people had puked during the race. Were we stopping and waiting for the pukers now?

The crowds were getting thicker as shoppers on Newbury Street stopped to watch the spectacle. There was a construction crew fixing a patch of concrete when suddenly, to their shock and surprise, hundreds of people in bathing suits were running at them. They held out their hands and people slapped them as they ran by.

Finally we were within a block of the bar again, and I busted out in my best sprint reserved only for emergencies. I hadn't felt this good running since the day I sprinted 3 blocks to catch a train only to turn and find Lorraine was a block behind me. She can outrun me in any distance from a 5K to a 100 mile race, and I chalked it up to the performance enhancing benefits of gin and tonic. I saw the bar and didn't stop running until I was already at the door. Red caught me there and made me pose for another picture. "Here?!" I screamed. "But it's so COLD out!" I posed for just long enough for someone to snap the picture, and then I ran back to the basement of that bar as fast as I could get there.

Princess was at the bar by herself sucking down her second soda water. Anne and I were the first ones back in the bar, and Dirk and Diggler followed us down a minute or two later. As Dirk got dressed he looked at me and said, "Don't judge me! It's cold out there!"
"Oh my god! I wasn't looking, I swear!" I said. "Red, tell him I wasn't looking!" I really hadn't been looking, I promise. I wouldn't know how to judge a guy in a speedo. I don't even know enough about the male anatomy to know what I would be looking for. Everyone had gone for the smallest bikini or speedo that they could fit into, and I had seen more ass crack today than I wanted to see for the rest of my life anyway. I certainly wasn't checking out what ELSE was wrapped in small packages!

I was hungry after not letting myself eat much all morning so that my tummy wouldn't pooch out. Red, Dirk, and Diggler wanted to keep drinking with the rest of the skins, so we parted ways. In the end, at 14 minutes and 47 seconds it was the slowest mile and a quarter I have ever run. It was also the shortest race I have ever run. But still, to be honest, it wasn't the coldest I've ever been. I would rather run down the street in Boston in December or dunk up to my neck in the Atlantic on New Year's day than swim for half an hour in 51º water at the Hairy Man any day. Once I'd put my clothes back on, I was warm within about 10 minutes.

Still, it's going to take a lot more than $365 dollars to get me to streak through downtown Boston in my underwear again! Thanks again to everyone who donated. In addition to my discomfort and humiliation, your generous contributions went to a great cause: keeping kids warm and safe. Thanks again.