I ran two races last weekend: first a half marathon in Cedar City, Utah, and then a full marathon (my “Virtual Boston”) starting in Central, Utah, and finishing in St. George. I ran both races in a kilt. Two kilts, actually—I have five, total. Yep, I love kilt running.
It’s a question I get a lot. Why run in a kilt?
Why not, though?
Better Caught with Your Kilt Up Than Your Pants Down
The easy explanation for my kilt running obsession is that I’ve got Scottish blood. While many of my ancestors (including Richard Pace, who helped save Jamestown from massacre by hostile natives) originally hailed from England, I have my fair share of Scots in my heritage. Going back through my family tree, I see Donalds, Rankins, Andersons, Whitlaws, Aulds and Weirs. My Scottish forebears emigrated to America from Counties Fife, Lanarkshire and Perth, among other places.
Catherine Donald Rankin Pymm, one of my great-great-great-grandmothers on my mother’s side, was born in Culross, County Fife, not far from Dunfermline, where King David Bruce is entombed. She and her husband Richard Rankin were weavers in Scotland (where they may have woven tartan on their looms) before they crossed the Atlantic from Liverpool to New York City and made their way to St. Louis via train and riverboat. They then traveled by ox-drawn covered wagon to Salt Lake City, Utah, where they settled down to raise their family. After Richard’s death, Catherine moved to St. George, Utah, and married John Pymm. Catherine was buried in Utah in the St. George City Cemetery, about four blocks from where I finished my Virtual Boston run.
Hanging Loose in Hawaii
But my Scottish heritage is just one reason I run in kilts. Another began when I was 11, when my family moved from Arizona to the North Shore of Oahu. It was tough relocating to Hawaii during the summer before I started seventh grade. For a long time, I found it hard to fit in. After a while, though, I made some great friends in school and band and started to enjoy my little slice of paradise.
During the summer between my sophomore and junior years, I got my first real job, at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Laie, Hawaii. Initially, they hired me to play trumpet in the old “noon show”—sort of a preview of coming attractions for tourists who had just arrived at the PCC. Later that summer, I began performing nightly with the PCC brass band. I started on the E-flat alto horn and ended up playing almost every instrument, from trumpet to trombone to euphonium to tuba. Every evening, we paraded through the villages and then played a concert at the PCC’s open-air gazebo.
My work uniform for the PCC was based on the outfits worn by police officers in Fiji. It consisted of a shirt, a sash and a lavalava (or sulu)—a Polynesian wraparound skirt. I worked at the PCC, and wore this uniform, through high school and off and on until I graduated from college.
Vinaka Vaka Levu
For those men who have never worn a lavalava (or a kilt) … you’re missing out. Seriously, the Scots and Polynesians know something much of the rest of the world still hasn’t figured out: guys are happier with a bit of a breeze up in their happy place.
After college, I spent three months in the Fiji Islands: first a month on Viti Levu, then a month on Vanua Levu, then a final month back on the main island. I didn’t think to bring a lavalava with me on that trip, but I picked up several along the way. I took to wearing a T-shirt and lavalava almost every day—a habit that’s continued to this day.
In fact, I’m wearing a lavalava while writing this.
How I Started Kilt Running
I’ve been a casual runner off and on throughout my adult life, but I didn’t really get serious about racing until 2016. It was at the starting line of my very first marathon, the 2017 Salt Lake Marathon, where I met my first kilt runner.
He was probably in his late twenties, and was happy to talk to me about his running kilt. “It’s the most comfortable thing you’ll ever run in,” he told me. “Once you race in a kilt, you’ll never want to race in anything else.” And he wasn’t wrong.
Given my experiences with lavalavas, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I got my first running kilt two months later. Since then, I’ve run almost every race in a kilt.
Sourcing a Kilt for Kilt Running
My first two running kilts came from a company called JWalking Designs. (Sadly, they no longer make them). JWalking created these amazingly comfortable athletic kilts from a fabric that’s a blend of recycled water bottles and Spandex. Their men’s kilts have a single, zippered pocket in the back, which are difficult to access while running and wearing a hydration belt (which I call my “runner’s sporran”). To recify this, I opened up the two side seams and sewed in side pockets to make them much more functional.
The downside of JWalking’s kilts is that they didn’t come in traditional clan tartans. But they’re floaty and silky and did I mention comfortable?
More recently, I’ve bought my kilts from SportKilt. These 100-percent polyester kilts are heavier, which means they’re less likely to fly up and give spectators interesting things to look at during a race. You can order them with side pockets, which are awesome. In fact, when I ordered my first SportKilt (in the Black Watch tartan), I didn’t realize pockets were even an option. After I got another SportKilt, this one in the Anderson tartan with pockets, I contacted the company and they were happy to put pockets a kilt I’d been running in for over a year and a half. I mailed it off and it came back with side pockets sewn in!
SportKilt has a huge variety of tartans—some traditional, some unique to the company. Whether you’re trying to represent a specific clan or just looking for a pattern that goes with a variety of running shirts, you can find something that’ll work for you.
The Joys of Kilt Running
Aside from comfort, style, and tradition, kilt running brings some fun benefits. One is the reaction I get from other runners, from volunteers, and from spectators. Generally I hear something like “Nice kilt!” as I run past. People have stopped me before and after races to ask me where I told the kilt, why I wear it, whether it’s comfortable. Some of the other questions make me smile. “Does it ever fall off?” is one I’ve heard more than once. “What do you wear under it?” is also common. (Snarky answer: “Socks and shoes.” Real answer: “compression shorts.”)
When I ran my first 50K, one of the volunteers at the finish line told me the guy who finished right before me told him, “I’m just glad I beat the guy wearing the skirt.” I’ll take that.
When I ran the Ogden Marathon a few years ago, I passed a group of women who were walk-jogging the half marathon, which began at the halfway point for the full. As I passed them, I got catcalls and whistles and shouts of “What’s under there?” Since nobody else was around, I lifted up the back and showed them, prompting giggles and squeals. I had to wonder what the reaction would be if a bunch of men had whistled and catcalled a female runner in a tartan skirt. But regardless, when you’re one of hundreds or even thousands of runners doing something as inherently difficult as running a marathon, it’s nice to get singled out for any reason.
In 2019, while waiting in my corral to start running the Boston Marathon, I suddenly felt something like a clamp around my neck. Another runner, who wore a singlet with the word “SCOTLAND” proudly emblazoned across the front, had collared me with his arm. In a delightful brogue, he began battering me with questions about my kilt and my heritage and why the feck are you wearing that thing? After I ran down my clan lineage for him, he told me he’d once held the world record for running a marathon in full Scottish kit. “Have a great race,” he told me finally. I said, “You too … and thanks for approving.”
“I didn’t say I approved,” he replied. “I said have a great race.”
Regardless of whether he approved or not, the Boston crowd certainly did. I must’ve heard “Go, kilt guy!” and “Love the kilt!” and similar comments a thousand times along the course that morning.
I can’t count the number of times a runner has stopped me, either at the starting line or finish line, to compliment me on my kilt. Most of the women tell me it’s cool, and the guys ask if it’s comfortable. When I’m asked what I wear under my kilt, the standard answer is “socks and shoes.” (The real answer is: compression shorts. I am running, after all!)
Now Go Kilt Running!
If you’ve never run in a kilt (or worn a lavalava), you owe it to yourself to find out for your self how comfortable and satisfying kilt running can be. Order a kilt from SportKilt and give it a try.
Believe me … you’ll never want to run in pants again!