Using hand dryer as hair dryer: faux pas?

I actually wrote this two, almost three now:/, weeks ago, but never proofread and posted, and then got sidetracked. Happy reading, spandex flaunting, and inappropriate rest room using my fellow runners!

I remember the days (they weren't all too long ago) when my curly hair and I dreaded swimming events and humidity. When I wouldn't have imagined leaving the house in lounging clothes, or without makeup. The days when the only lounge clothes I owned was a pair of sweats I'd bought from a school basketball fundraiser, two pair of cotton gym shorts, and a pile of marching band tshirts.

I knew people in those days who tromped around in their scruffy lounge clothes, and I envied them. I envied even more the people with the trendy lounge clothes; cute jogging pants and hoodies, hair in a pony. For me, even after laboring over clothes and crazy frizzy hair and face paint for far too long, I would still feel self conscious out and about. Which is, no doubt, why I not only noticed what others were out in, but envied their confidence in themselves.

And then one August day, there I was. Dressed in cotton shorts, a marching band tshirt, the only pair of sneakers I owned (that really weren't running appropriate and left horrific blisters on my achilles) drenched in my own sweat. I had on no makeup, or if I had at some point that day it had long since melted off and run down. And what was worse - I was standing next to the cutest boy I'd ever met. It was my high school nightmare. It was my 26 year old "content to be a cat lady band teacher but at least I'm going to be a thin and fit one lost my ability to give a hoot" happy reality.

The cute boy stuck around, (and has told me since that he hates make up and doesn't understand why women 'paint their faces'), and so did my happy reality. And I gained confidence. Rare is the day I feel those all too familiar from the past pangs of self consciousness, and the feeling of contentedness in self and life is bliss.

But will I know when I've crossed the line? The line that separates a secure sense of self from total lack of regard for others' opinion of you. The filter that screams "self confidence!" vs "socially unacceptable!"

Because I think I may have. This past Sunday. In a public restroom.

Due to snow, the county band concert I had to attend with students and direct during was rescheduled from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon. Refusing to miss my Sunday long run with the Triple Cities group, I set out my winter long run clothes and packed up my dress clothes and toiletries on Saturday night without giving the whole situation a second thought.

I got in 19 with "the group" though really Emily and I ran alone for all but literally a couple of tenths of a mile early on. The temperature never reached double digits, and some of our miles were, we realized, the slowest the two of us have ever run together, but it was another great run in the bank, and I enjoyed every step.

After the run, I ate my breakfast and then made a break for the public restroom where I proceeded to change into my concert outfit in a stall, and then wash my face and hair in the sink, mousse my hair, dry my hair under the hand dryer (I had my blow dryer but there were no outlets), spray and pin my hair, and lightly paint my face. In the swinging door sweaty, salty and just minutes post frost beard, back out the swinging door in less than 10 minutes ready to direct a band and greet parents and students.

Oh the looks those 10 minutes held.

Now, Wegman's is the upper echelon of grocers in the area, but I didn't get the sense the clientele giving me looks was being snobby. Just genuinely aghast at the woman with her head stuck under the hand dryer.

Fleeting pang of that old insecurity and self doubt. Fleeting, but enough to get me thinking about how many borderline socially inappropriate things I do in my runner life.

I wear spandex everywhere in the winter. On my run and then into the grocery store, the post office, through the halls of my high school (where little to none of my running wardrobe meets the dress code).

I think nothing of spitting or snot rockets regardless of who I'm running with or who I'm running by.

I've given up makeup but for the lightest bit, and it seems unfathomable to me that I was ever self conscious about my hair, with whose out of control-ness I've fallen in love. The way I figure it, you really can't mess up what's going on up there unless you try too hard.

The thing is, I remember how exhausting those self conscious, hair straightening, makeup applying, fashion fussing days were. And how unhappy they often were. And so, while running may have led me to using that hand dryer as a hair dryer, it also led me to yet another wonderfully fulfilling and happy Sunday, and I'll take those at the cost of a few funny looks any day.