LESS THAN ZERO
I call ©Tracksmith’s No Days Off collection, made of Merino wool, the No More Excuses collection.
I’ve spent most of my adult life in a subtropical climate. While I loved skiing when younger, I never made peace with clammy fingers and cold toes. During my first year of running in 2016, Fall had been mild in New York, but I watched the approaching winter with suspicion. I set myself a temperature limit. Once temperatures dropped below 50 Fahrenheit, I’d stay at home, I vowed. End of November, after an extended spell of Indian summer, it dropped to 48. I adjusted it to 47 Fahrenheit and rerouted from the waterfront to the sheltered canyons of the high-rises.
When it dropped below 40, I pulled the top of my hoodie–printed Yoga Kills–over my head, although every child knows that cotton is not your body temperature’s friend. As soon as the air was below freezing, I moved the goalposts again, rationalizing my relationship as running like an abusive partner, except that this partnership was good for me. I vowed never to go out in the snow and secretly hoped for accelerated global warming.
As I braved the cold one day, a bomb cyclone surprised me. Within seconds the cute snow dome flurry turned into a vicious Nor-Easter. I leaned into the gales, navigated the whiteout with eyes clenched, and found my way home. Shivering under several blankets, a hot water bottle in my arms, I googled extreme-weather clothing for runners. To my horror, most of the gear seemed designed to make the wearer look like a walking power plant. Reflector details, screaming colors, industrial fabric. Everything I hated about athletic wear times ten.
I longed for the alpine playfulness of the 1980s, a little more Ellessee or Bjorn Borg. An aesthetic that didn’t link weather with catastrophe, survival in military trenches, or nuclear fallout. An innocent Norwegian knit. About to give up, I hit the jackpot. From Boston, of all places, the cradle of meteorological gloom, a brand named Tracksmith answered my prayers. Despite its pedigree allure, Tracksmith was an emerging brand founded in 2014. The retro-futuristic apparel looked like Wes Anderson, Solange, and Grete Waitz had teamed up to reimagine Ivy League prep minus white entitlement. Clothes for ambitious amateurs with a soft spot for sustainability who didn’t want to compromise on style.
The logo of a nimble golden hare, mid-leap, hind legs extended, reminded me of Lacoste’s crocodile, which divided the tribes of my adolescence. This cute hare made me think of fluffy fur and a crackling fireplace.
I went into a rabbit hibernation hole. It turns out that Tracksmith’s founder Matt Taylor found his secret weapon in Merino wool. “The brilliant temperature-regulating material keeps you cool in the heat and warm in the cold," Taylor said via Zoom after I contacted him. Always a passionate runner, he saw a “100% need for style” and took things into his own hands. His label breathes timeless understatement. Tracksmith’s colors are inspired by the New England fall: mild mustards, matte blues, chalky whites, and dusty terracotta. The slim silhouettes don't cling to the body; the jerseys are seamlessly knit in one piece. The high-quality wool is finely spun in prestigious Italian mills specializing in performance fabric sans forever chemicals. Tighter woven for the cold and loser for the heat. Trackmith’s winter apparel is constructed to warm the extremities and allow more airflow in the permeable upper body. Smart and sustainable.
Wool is a hygroscopic fiber that absorbs moisture (up to 35% of its weight), keeping the sweating body dry and preventing bacterial growth on the skin. Compared to synthetics and cotton, Merino has another superpower. “Each fiber of the sheep’s wool,” said Taylor, “is coated with a kind of lanolin, similar to petroleum jelly.” The natural coating of the fiber binds the sweat and locks it in the thread, thus rendering the fabric uninhabitable for bacteria. “No bacteria, no smell.” Tyler lets his shirts airdry after a run and wears them for several days before throwing them in a washer. This saves water and resources and extends the clothes’ lifespan.
Since discovering the brand, I’ve abolished my temperature limit and perfected my layering game. I wear a maximum of two long-sleeved wool tops and a windbreaker. In extreme cases below 22-ish, I add a light down vest. Rule of thumb for running in winter: always dress for 15 degrees warmer.
Thus robed in Tracksmith layers, I went for a run on a hyper-crisp and chilly winter day. The snowy flyblown streets were empty, except for the hardening snow, with an almost surreal blue sky. I crossed the abandoned Brooklyn Bridge, feeling like the only survivor of an apocalypse, a character in I Am Legend. Three-inch icicles flashed ominously from the cables above. Melting in the sun, some came crashing like glassy stakes and shattered on the wooden planks. The ice glittered like diamonds. I took one and sucked on the frozen water to remind myself how cold it was and that this moment in history was real.
November 2021
