Captain Co-ordinated


The other day I set off on a nice steady 10k around Blueberry Hills. The weather was mild and the run uneventful.

Uneventful, that is, until I happened to look down at what I was wearing. Green jacket with black panelling, black tights with blue panelling, green/blue/black running shoes. The exact shades were subtly different, but it was close enough to give the overall impression that I’d gone to a lot of effort to put together a matching outfit.
When I’d thrown on whatever crumpled clothes had been nearest the top of the pile just a few minutes earlier, picking a matching ensemble was as high on my list of priorities as contracting violent dysentery and getting my face tattooed with the phrase “Dunfermline’s third cleanest prostitute”. But, intentional or not, my green/blue/black get-up made me look very much like someone sponsored by an exciting new brand of chewing gum that was as minty as it was mysterious. If anyone from Wrigleys is reading this, you could call it “StealthMint” and get an actual ninja to do the voiceover on the ad.

Anyway, by the time I came into the last mile, I’d become more and more conscious of the fact that the final stretch would take me through a busy residential area. Nobody had pointed and jeered on the way out, but now that I’d noticed that I looked as cringeworthy as a dad turning up to school sports day in compression gear and track spikes, it somehow meant that the veil was lifted and now everyone else would notice too. Speaking of which, I did consider mitigating my fashion faux pas by taking off the green jacket. However, I’d opted for a black compression top which was so skintight you could count the individual hairs on my chest*, and the people of my town just aren’t ready for the sight of a vaguely-mobile S&M bouncy castle.

So I steeled myself and headed for home, waiting for the mockers to descend on me. Knowing my luck, they’d probably just spent the morning making placards and composing a satirical song.

They didn’t, and they hadn’t, but as I glimpsed my reflection in a bus stop, I thought to myself:

“My name is Captain Co-ordinated. And I am a dick”


* Seven, since you’re asking.



11 thoughts on “Captain Co-ordinated

  1. Bet your socks matched too…

    You can achieve a lot through accessorising – a bright red watch, perhaps, twinned with a violent hi-viz hat would ensure that these accidental co-ordinations were a thing of the past. Or if it’s too hot for the hat, some hi-viz bands on your ankles during the day so you look like a) you don’t know what time it is and b) you just might be wearing bicycle clips would do the trick.

    Failing that, hem one leg up a little on your tights. Nothing says “non-fashionista” than showing an inch of wispy-haired shin.

    • You, sir, are a genius. People would see the high-viz ankle bands and assume my red-faced wheeziness was due to the fact that I’d been running non-stop since the night before, rather than me just being unfit.

  2. Haha brilliant post, made me chuckle 😀

    I am in no way condoning co ordinated running gear. Not at all. No Siree. You should be ashamed of yourself.*

    * This is in fact a lie. Top must not clash with bottoms. Ever.

  3. I am obviously sub-human when it comes to coordinating. My day clothes are about 200 shades of black, so I can handle that, but my running outfits usually look like somebody threw up Froot Loops all over me….

    • The thought of your colourful running outfits made me smile. But then I started thinking about how you don’t get free toys in cereal boxes any more.

      Now I’m sad 😦

  4. I think Stealthmint should be an actual shade or style. I would copyright it though just in case the Swoosh people steal it, there could be money to be made here Jay.

  5. Pingback: The Return of Captain Co-ordinated | Born to Plod

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