Running shorts- “Pony girl, won’t you be my Pony girl!”
Do you remember that nursery rhyme ditty, My Pony Boy?
Pony Boy, Pony Boy, won’t you be my Tony Boy?
Don’t say no. Here we go off across the plains.
Marry me, carry me right away with you.
Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, whoa! My Pony Boy.
Till one day, out that way, so they say, came to stay a fluffy ruffle girl.
Well, that song has been stuck in my head since Saturday morning, when I went out for a very short run after 3 weeks of nursing a foot injury.
(As a quick aside, that foot injury was sustained NOT by jumping off Jaws Bridge at Martha’s Vineyard with my son-in-law Brian and 11-year old grandson Jake – but rather crawling up those slippery rocks to do it yet again and slipping into one of those deep crevices – jamming my foot, spraining my toes, slicing open my heel…)
But anyway, I’d do it again.
And again.
Not the slipping into a crevice.
But jumping!
This brings me back to Saturday and my first run in 3 weeks. Don’t get me wrong, my foot still hurts, but it hurts with that kind of hurt that I can deal with. The previous hurt was the kind I could hardly walk with.
I knew I had to return to running with ease.
(And this brings me to another aside about my house undergoing renovations and having moved our stuff from one room to another to another and honestly having no idea where any of my stuff is.)
I opened a drawer of running stuff and put my hands on a pair of orange running shorts – the kind with the elastic waist, adjustable string, little flair legs and little white brief lining – that I bought years ago when I first began running. Like 7 years ago. At a clearance sale at Marshall’s. Because at that time, I neither knew what to wear nor if I’d even like this running thing.
The shorts are Pony brand.
(Sorry, yet another aside. I’ve gone on to 5k’s, 5-milers, half marathons, 2 marathons and 2 Half Ironmans.)
I ended up liking running very much and haven’t stopped running since.
Except in cases like smashing my foot.
I put on those orange Pony shorts this past Saturday morning and headed out with my husband Barry on a brisk walk that I’d turn into a short run if my foot felt okay.
After a mile walking, I decided to bust into a run – maybe a half mile. I felt twinges in my toes, but not enough to quit. I guess I got caught up in the spectacular morning and the fabulous emotional feeling of being able to run, albeit carefully and slowly, enough to eek out 1 mile.
Barry was behind me and captured the beauty of the morning. AND, it appears, the gorgeousness of those orange Pony shorts…
All the time while running, I was thinking wow, this little orange number is really, really comfortable!
Of course, I have all kinds of running apparel now. I’ve loved some, liked some, hated some, spent too much $$$$ on some. Styles emerge. Styles disappear. New brands appear. It’s all okay.
But those old-school kinda cool orange Pony shorts had me singing that little nursery rhyme ditty while running…
Pony Boy, Pony Boy, won’t you be my Tony Boy?
Don’t say no. Here we go off across the plains.
Marry me, carry me right away with you.
Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, whoa! My Pony Boy.
Till one day, out that way, so they say, came to stay a fluffy ruffle girl.
I know that old “giddy up” expression refers to a horse galloping at high speed, but even at my low speed, I felt like I was galloping across the plains.
Maybe even a bit of a fluffy ruffle girl!
HA!
So yesterday, I dug into that same drawer again and found a little blue Pony number…
Same style.
Same ditty.
Same cautious giddy up (sounds like a contradiction of terms, but really isn’t in this Pony case!)
I ran a 1.5 miles.
Well, ain’t I the Pony Girl!
I know I have a pink pair and maybe even a green pair, too.
I’m a-gonna be lookin’ fer them.
My Pony Girls, carry me right away with you.
(And a last aside. I’m gonna be hunting for more of these Ponies!)
