Ah, buying lingerie. There's nothing quite like standing in a completely mirrored change room under the sort of unforgiving lighting seldom seen outside of an operating theatre, studying your semi-clothed body.

There's a reason why they don't have sharp edges in those rooms.

Really, they should make you hand over your shoelaces and belt before you go in.

So yeah, I'm in Montreal. After picking up my runner's kit for the Jog for the Jugs, I decided I'd treat The Girls to a new jogging bra and the spousal unit to some new, uh, inspiration. Armed with a mix of the practical and the utterly impractical, I entered the change room.

Now the deal with lingerie is that it often comes in boxes or with tags displaying an unspeakably beautiful young model with a flawless body, glorious hair, and immaculate make-up sporting the lingerie in question.

The thing is, I am a 52-year-old woman with a far from perfect body, hair that has a mind of its own, and I seldom wear make-up. There is, oh, how to put this delicately, quite a contrast between how the lingerie looks on the box or label and how it looks on me.

As a matter of fact, today I caught myself wondering if I was of the same species as the women modeling the bras I was trying on.

Oh, and even worse, the change room was mirrored in such a way that not only could I see my front, but I could see my back. All my back. Including my jean clad buttal region.

No woman should ever be forced to contemplate her buttal region under the sort of harsh, unforgiving light seldom seen outside of an operating theatre. Thoughts such as "wow, I didn't realize they could measure denim in acres" tend to cross your mind under conditions such as that.

The fact I made it out of that change room without doing harm to myself is proof positive that "that which does not kill us makes us stronger".

There's more good news. Not only did I narrowly escape death by lingerie-induced hysteria, as of today you, my three loyal readers, tossed enough into the Jog for the Jugs (aka The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation's Run for the Cure) tin cup that between you, friends, family, neighbours and strangers shaken down in dimly lit alleys there's over $3,000 rattling around in there.

I am overwhelmed by your generosity to this cause that's so close to my heart. .:cough:. Donations are open until Oct. 3, of course. .:cough:.

This morning I bought a laundry marker. So far I have 46 names you have given me to run for and tonight I wrote each of them on the front of my official run t-shirt. I know this will sound sappy, but it was a very moving experience, taking a pen in hand and changing that shirt from a uniform into a record of lives touched by breast cancer.

More than 120 folks have donated, which means I should have another 80 or so names to add to this shirt. Feel free to leave them in my comments. I will check and update the shirt until the evening of Oct. 4, the night before the race.

Earlier today I stood at the place where the run will start, a small park downtown surrounded by tall office buildings. All around me was the hubbub of a big city. I tried to imagine it as it will be Sunday morning when they close it all down, how it will look for a few hours as an ocean of people in white t-shirts emblazoned with the pink ribbon symbol of breast cancer will take over the heart of Montreal.

When I started this project it was about combining a fitness challenge with a cause. Somewhere along the line it changed and it became about people. About people lost to breast cancer, about people fighting breast cancer and about finding a way to make it so the generations of people to come won't have to wear pink ribbons.

Thank you for sharing those 46 names. You know, there really should be many, many more.

--Marn

Behold the power of pretty please covered with sprinkles! Here's the new inductees into the Bazonga Boosters Hall o' Fame, kind-hearted souls who have decided to spend some of their hard-earned buckazoids supporting me as I run the Jog for the Jugs Oct. 5 in Montreal.

Some folks have been donating but I don't recognize their names and they haven't e-mailed me to let me know who they are. To you mystery people, I want to say thank you, too. Please let me know if I've missed adding you to the Hall o' Fame.

All donors can proudly sport the shoddily Photoshopped yet justly coveted red rectangle below.

P.P.S.- That iron woman, Karen is doing an unbelievable 60 MILE WALK FOR BREAST CANCER! If you don't want to sponsor me, perhaps you'd want to sponsor her. Oh, and ***Dave's friend Mary is also doing that walk. Yowza, that makes that 5K Jog for the Jugs seem embarrassingly short.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 448.65 miles (716.6 kilometers)

Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers