Brother from another decade

I like to dress down for the weekend -- T-shirt, holey jeans, baseball cap, well-worn shoes. Typically, I also don't shave. So I'm used to the ribbing when my wife says I look like a homeless man. In a moment of candor a few days ago, she went a step further.

"You know, honey, I hate to say it," she said. (And then she said it anyway.) "The clothes you wear when you go running make you look like a brother from another decade."

Saggy basketball shorts, sweaty cotton T-shirt, vintage cotton headband with an athletic logo... Ugh, she said between laughs. "Why don't you get a clue and upgrade your wardrobe?"

I protested. "Hey, the shorts go down to my knees. At least they're not mid-thigh, like Clinton used to wear."

I had no comeback for the T-shirt and equally sweaty headband.

And so the next day, with wounded pride, I took my sorry old self over to the Nike outlet store in our neighborhood and spent an hour trying on shirts, shorts, jackets, visors -- everything but headbands. I left with a bagful of items in stylish hues of red, orange, blue and gray and tried out the first "ensembles" this week.

That color-coordinated blur, that well-dressed runner zipping through the streets of the leafy Irvington and Grant Park neighborhoods? Yep, that was me.

Gotta hand it to Lori. I was overdue for a makeover.

Photo: www.fotosearch.com