Just get out of bed. Musing on how to place in your age group.
When was the last time I had a pap smear?
Good grief. Has it been that long? I immediately suppress thoughts of “dog’s dead” scenarios and vow to make an appointment Monday.
I really want a new doctor.
I must get the house under control tomorrow.
Daughter hasn’t practiced piano once all week — for fourth week in a row. And I had done so well, rehabilitating myself as a somewhat competent piano mom in the eyes of her teacher.
Where are my children? Let’s see. One is spending the night out, one is in her bed, the other is on the couch where he fell asleep last night.
I start to pick them off one by one — praying for them.
Finally, I pick up my phone to see what time it is.
3:40 a.m.
Read a few emails, respond to a few emails.
This all goes through my head lying awake in bed.
Then I hear rain.
Ugh. I’ve got to be up and out of bed for the 10.2K (yes, 10.2) in the morning.
Finally, I pop an herbal sleep aid lozenge on my tongue and guess I go back to ZZZZZ.
* * *
I leave my house about 8 a.m., no rain.
Get to race.
Rain.
But in the mercy of the good Lord, it is fairly warm and I dressed in layers.
Because my hormonally-challenged bod goes from cold to “I’VE GOT TO RIP ALL THESE CLOTHES OFF” in like nanoseconds.
It was a good race. Lots of rain.
Toward the end I passed two men, younger than me. We exchanged pleasantries.
Or so I thought.
They were talking so loud that I could tell where they were behind me.
When we passed Mile Marker 6, one of them learns from his friend that this race is a 10.2 K.
“That’s another quarter mile. I’d rather crumple and die here than run another quarter mile,” the one says to the other.
But rather than crumpling into a heap, those chatty bast*rds passed me on the last hill.
(Not fair. They made me laugh weakening my body’s ability to stay ahead of their younger men-selves.)
But looky, looky.
I love small races.
What about you? What about small races in the rain?
proud of you!
you are always my hero, always. 🙂
Thanks Jill. See if you keep at these things long enough, the law of averages finally catches up with you.
I can run my mouth, run the car, run the lawnmower, run the kids to school, run out of gas, run out of energy, run out of things to say, run out of milk, bread, eggs, TV dinners, run out to get pizza, run out of time but I cannot run a race…even to the mailbox. Kudos to you kid! The Medicare Mom
Jody, I have no doubt that you can do anything you put your mind to…and then write something hysterical about the experience. Running for me is not pretty, but keeps me sane.