The Tortoise and the Hair

Extreme Self-absorption Warning. This post actually does relate to running, but I'll get to that in a second.

I got my hair cut today. I go to this place on Fifth Avenue because it's close to work, and I don't feel like I have to wear a bag over my head for a few days after they're done. That said, I still haven't come out thinking "Wow, I have to remember his/her name. I think I just found my stylist!" It's an okay cut. I might even go back to the guy again, if I can remember his name, come mid-April.

I used to have hair slightly longer than shoulder length, and had it cut short in January 2004 (the day before I got Medley), as a new year's resolution (along with "get a cat" as another resolution). After ten years sportin' the hippie look, it was time for a change. As you might expect, chicks dug the new do, and being a man of only a few primative motivations, I haven't gone back.

However, since then, I've often remembered why I grew it out in the first place: it was just so easy to take care of. I just tied it back, or let it down, and no problems. I didn't even have to wash it daily. Plus it was just much more cheaper getting cuts much less frequently. And now I have to spend money on, and use, "product". No guy should ever in his life have to use product. It's just wrong. Whatever happened to wash 'n wear? Anyway, if that "in-between" stage, between short and long, wasn't just so horrific (which doesn't bode well for playing the role of the "professional" at the office), I really would consider just letting it grow out again.

When it comes to hair, mine's a mixed blessing. I still have a lot of it, and it's still pretty thick, which is a lot more than I can say for many of my male friends in their late thirties. The trouble is, I've got streaks of grey, cowlicks, and a widows peak, so half the time, even when I don't have bed head, I usually wake up to some sort of amusement park on my skull. The first person I see when I look in the mirror isn't me, it's somebody resembling Astroboy. Even when I use product, I still feel like I should have machine guns firing out of my ass.

However, there has been an upside to all the hair thing, and that is this (here it is!): after a run, my hair looks awesome. I'm not kidding, it's the strangest thing (Sister Smile can vouch for me on this. She's the only other person who's noticed the pattern of nice-do-following-my-run). Even Wednesday night, when it was warm enough to run without a head-covering of some sort, I came home and reflected on my moptop in the mirror afterward thinking, "Damn that looks good. Maybe I don't need to get it cut on Friday." But alas, when Astro greeted me the next morning, I knew I had to go in for the chop.

Of course the awesomeness of my post-run stylishness is gone after I hop in and out of the shower. It is such a dilemma: look good but smell bad, or smell good and look my regular crappiness. Fortunately for my friends, I err on the side of personal hygiene (you're all welcome). It's not like I can run a six mile loop of Central Park, and then hang out at the bar, or go for brunch. Unless everyone else stinks, too, and with a running club those opportunites do arise, luckily. Anyway, at least I can have my post-exercise moment of vanity. I don't get many of them otherwise. And besides, it gives me one more reason to get out the door to train. Not that I really needed one.