Fighting age

Good thing about today:

I ran a 15k race (9.3 miles) in just under 1:24. One second to spare. Although, the clock posted 1:25:03. It took me four seconds to get to the starting line due to the crowd. So I'm somewhat pleased, though I anticipated finishing a minute earlier. But the satisfying part: overtaking my biggest rival during the past year of racing. She'd pass me, I'd pass her. Then I'd walk, thinking I was going to toss my granola bar. She'd pass me. I'd catch her. I'd walk again. She'd pass. Finally, with maybe 25 yards left, I had her in my sights. And I went for the kill with my husband screaming at me to "go get her, go get her." She turned and saw me charging like a marriage-hungry bride at one of those Filene's wedding gown sales. She picked up the pace, but it was too late. She was toast.

It felt good. Damn good.

Bad thing about today:

I got an eye exam. Well, my prescription hasn't changed, but the eye doctor could tell I had a secret that I really hadn't told anyone. "I bet you're having trouble reading, aren't you?" How did he know. Freakin' psychic. "Um, kinda." "Hmmm, for how long?" "Oh, maybe a year or so."

And then he delivered the passage that I didn't want to hear:

"Well, maybe we should look into some bifocals."

Bifocals? Me? Not in this... summer.

Let's see how I've fared medically this summer.

Chest pains. Got the EKG. Bad mammogram. Got the CT scan. Now my eyes are going? Fuggetaboutit. Ok, ok, he agreed. Maybe not now. But down the road. He cut me some slack. Get the weakest pair of reading glasses at the supercenter and use them when you need them. Ha. I could use them every time I read. I could use them to brush my teeth. I could use them to pluck my eyebrows. And when could I really use them? When I'm searching my head for those wirey grey hairs that seem to be standing on end every two weeks or so.

I did take the girls to the supercenter, and I did buy the glasses. Cute little torties. Obviously I was more concerned with finding the eyewear than paying attention to my girls. For when Mark returned home, he looked at Grace and asked what was with her hair. She had a huge wad of a blue knot sticking out the side of her head. Turns out that when she spit out her blue liquid Advil last night (fever), it congealed into her scalp and it appeared that she had a wad of cotton candy stuck to her noggin. Well, it was Wal-Mart, and I really don't care what the other people thought. As long as I look fine in my glasses, I'm good. Besides, without them, I might never know what these kids look like up-close when we head to the store.