My roommate practically cackled when I stepped into the hallway of the freshman dorm wearing my team-issued racing briefs—the bikini-style competition bottoms also known as “buns.” I hadn’t necessarily thought I’d choose them over the boy short-style spandex for competition, but the look of horror and disgust on her face seemed to confirm my worst fears and beliefs about my body, so the buns were immediately shunted to the back of my drawer. I’ve opted for shorts with at least a 2.5 inch inseam ever since. None of the other women on my college cross-country and track team wore briefs either, and the controversial piece of race kit didn’t cross my mind again for many years.
However, now that I’m in my 30s and have been running competitively again for the past five years, I’ve noticed a shift in women’s racing attire. More women are lining up in buns; it’s no longer just professional athletes choosing to race in what are essentially bikini bottoms. Many athletes swear by them. Some runners wear them for comfort and claim that the design is more aerodynamic and better for women’s anatomy, but for many, it’s just a fit that makes them feel confident and speedy.
“Finally tried them when I started doing marathons a few marathons in and—LIFE CHANGING,” my teammate Ally texted when I inquired about her own journey into barely there racewear.
“You feel so badass and free and now I would never go back,” she continued. “When you put them on, it feels like you really mean business, like you must own them, like you BETTER run your fastest.”
The message is not lost on me that ultimately, what you wear on race day is a personal decision, and you should wear what makes you feel fast, confident, and comfortable. I’ve been inspired by the whole gamut of wardrobe possibilities—from Courtney Dauwalter’s long, loose shorts to Nikki Hiltz’s gender-affirming split shorts and Elise Cranny’s bikini-cut speedsuit. The Wildest Stats from Faith Kipyegons Run.
“Back in the day, I loved racing in ‘buns’ because it allowed me to move freely!” she said. “Now as a coach, I love to give women more options so that they feel comfortable and confident. My favorite is to have a collection of boyshorts, split shorts, and racing briefs.”
I know—at least at the amateur level—there’s no pressure or expectation to wear buns, but at this point in my journey towards body acceptance, I’ve become curious about gently pushing my own boundaries. I recently experimented with a cropped racing top, baring my midriff for the first time, and it felt oddly thrilling. My carbon-plated shoes make me feel ready to fly, and so does the teal glitter eyeliner I apply before every race. As I work on my confidence, I’m trying things on to see if they’re for me.
As I’ve become curious about this garment, a question has crossed my mind—who gets to wear them? Do you need to run a certain pace or have a certain body type? The current party line within the running community is that “every body is a runner’s body” and that anyone can wear anything. And yet, anecdotally, I’ve only seen smaller-bodied speedsters donning the briefs. They’re associated with elite performances—if you’re rocking fierce, wraparound sunglasses or toeing the line in a pair of buns, you’re giving off the aura of someone who’s about to throw down a fast time. Lately, I’ve been rethinking who “gets” to wear symbolic gear like racing briefs, and am inspired by the famous The Foot Locker XC Championships Are Ending: “Dress good to look good. Look good to feel good. And feel good to run fast!”
By most measures, despite how I struggle internally, my body fits the societal “ideal,” so I'm not exactly breaking any ground by discussing this topic. And while I don’t think of myself as particularly fast, as I’m on a club full of elite post-collegiate runners who are constantly setting records and making teams, I’m much closer to the front runners than the back of the pack. And yet, for the girl who spent her adolescence wearing t-shirts to pool parties, taking diet pills, and giving herself stress fractures from overtraining and underfueling—it’s a personal revolution.
Coach Devon hosted a gear pickup at her office this week and I bought the buns. I haven’t raced in them yet, but I’m planning on it. No one is asking me to do that, but it’s a personal challenge. Maybe my legs are too muscular for them after all and I’ll chafe terribly and I’ll feel so self conscious and vulnerable, it will have been a disaster. In that case, I’ll save them for the beach and the pool, and the world won’t end. Either way, I’ll be proud of myself for having dared to try them.
Abby Carney is a writer and journalist in New York. A former D1 college runner and current amateur track athlete, she's written about culture and characters in running and outdoor sports for Runner's World, Labor Day Shoe Deals, Like the Wind Magazine, and other outlets. She also writes about things that have nothing to do with running, and was previously the editor of a food magazine.
