Compression Shorts!!!

Don't worry, this isn't the rare form of tourettes when I randomly blurt out items of clothing......."COMPRESSION SHORTS!!!"............"KIPPER TIE!!!"..........."STRING VEST!!!!!"....It is in actual fact, the hopefully complete and absolute remedy to chub rub!
I won't revisit its definition (for those of you who need one, see previous posts, or just do a bit of googling), but suffice it to say that as the running distances started to increase, it was becoming a problem too severe for Vaseline to be effective. After the Great Manchester, it stung like the mother of all carpet burns. Without these wonderful garments I fear for what even a half marathon would have done to me. Compression shorts are figure hugging, and almost form a second skin as they cling tight to the thigh, bottom, and, well; basically everywhere! So when previously it was skin rubbing on skin, now it is lycra gliding effortlessly across lycra. Ran 8km in the gym on Sunday and I can confirm there was zero chub, and if possible even less rub.....sheer bliss!
Now, before you get carried away (or fall off your chair) at the image of me in my Linford Christieness (you get what I mean, and if you don't; bless your innnocence!), I confirm that these are not the only shorts worn; a regular, non-huggy pair (not a character out of Starsky and Hutch) go on over the top. I cannot believe that these are actually meant to be worn on their own; they SO seem like underwear to me, and leave nothing to the imagination (not that for a millisecond you would consider imagining!). So my lunchbox (or mini thermos flask in my case) remains secreted from the patrons and staff of Haslingden Sports Centre gymnasium (for which I am sure they are truly grateful!).
Even more good news is that - as you can tell - I am back running again. Considering it has been a stetertetuttering time of it at the gym lately, it felt good - if a little hot and sweaty - to get a long run behind me; and no sign of a DFS relapse......result!! Not too far behind schedule for the Great North (and by a bit of fiddling, by tomorrow night I will be miraculously back on schedule!! If you sense a bit of goalpost moving on the horizon, you might well be correct....). Only fourteen weeks to go....but who's counting.........