One and Twenty

Happy Birthday, Lucy! My how time flies--our little ball of fur is already EIGHT years old. Seems it was just yesterday we were bringing her home and freaking out because she would scream whenever we'd try to put a leash on her.... For her birthday, I am giving her a gift that is priceless and that will truly be appreciated by the Bark of Poteidaia--a "Bitty Bichon Free Day." I will ensure Lucy does not even have a Bitty Bichon sighting on her day of whelping. That is by far the best present I could ever give her.

Way back when I was in girl scouts, we used to sing a song called "One and Twenty." I doubt anyone besides my sister (who has an amazing ability to recall songs from our childhood) remembers the song. I think we sang it when people went to hide--like when you are counting during hide and seek--I don't know why else we would have been singing the song--my sister is free to step in and refresh my memory at any time--but, we sang it and it was very catchy. "One and twenty, two and twenty, three and four and five and six and twenty, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine.......thirty!" Ad naseum.

So, today when I was out walking, I was thinking about one and twenty....because I was thinking about twenty years ago. As I'm wobbling down the street (chugging? plodding?), I'm thinking about how twenty years ago I'd go out for an hour run and be disappointed if I didn't run 8 minute miles. Today--I walk-jog two miles and pray for 15 minute miles. I started thinking how much twenty years really does make a difference. Ten years--kinda, sorta. Twenty years--woof.

The photos of Lucy have nothing to do with what I am writing except that it's her birthday and she deserves to have her photos on the Internet.

Twenty years ago when I was a runner (not a walker or jogger--a runner), I did indeed weigh more than I do now....but, I was almost twice as fast and my thighs didn't rub together back then. This afternoon, I'm walking and sweating and puffing and I'm thinking about how much it sucks to have your thighs rub together when walking. This rather pisses me off and thus turned in to kind of a good thing because it made me walk a little faster. Note to self: buy Vaseline next time at store to slap on thighs before next walk.

One of my goals is to complete a marathon before or while I am fifty years old. That sounded like a grand plan when I ordered my license plates (yes, the number one reason my plates "say" what they do is to inspire me to complete a 26.2 marathon in 2012, provided the world does not end in 2012). While I have two years to train, I'm thinking this would have been way easier twenty years ago when my thighs didn't rub and my knees were still on good terms with me. When I begin to doubt that I can reach this goal, I remind myself that Oprah finished a marathon when she was 50....so, why can't I? I've done a half marathon...what could another half be? I didn't say I want to run it--I just want to finish it. Oprah, Oprah, Oprah. I can do it! As long as I get a vat of Vaseline, I can do it....

Twenty years ago, I did indeed run a half marathon. Of course, back then, running 13.1 miles was much easier than it would be today....I was running nine or ten miles a day twenty years ago; in fact, I'd run an hour a day for five days in a row and be no worse for the wear. Today, I can walk/jog for 30 minutes every other day--if I try and do more, my knee starts swearing and the ball of my foot starts pounding (a new development in the Addiverse--who knows why that nonsense started). This makes training for a 26 mile course a bit more complicated--there is only so fast I can build my distance or speed. July has been about re-building a two mile walking base. August will be the three mile base plus a bit more speed. September will be about the five mile weekend walk.......

Or, so I say from the couch.

There are some positive changes that come with my twenty years. Safety first--I now walk wearing a little wristband with all my emergency information on it and I carry a cell phone; twenty years ago, my mode of protection was not brushing my teeth before running (hoping to scare off any would-be rapists with my foul morning breath)......

.....Twenty years ago, I didn't have the best or most expensive running shoes--I bought whatever was sale or what looked good. These days, I wear the best shoes my money can buy, because my body parts demand the best support they can have. I look good and feel good.....

.....Twenty years ago, I literally ran into a parked car (ah, the euphoria of running for an hour--must have been on a runner's high when I ran smack-dab into that parked car); today, I don't walk into anything--I give wide berth to most objects and always respect the distortion from my trifocals.....

.....Twenty years ago, I purposefully and proudly wore those hideous running shorts; today, I wear whatever will cover the majority of my cheesy wiblets--trust me, this is a very good thing. Those shorts didn't (and still don't) look good on anyone. I think my shorts scared away would-be rapists, not my bad breath.....

....Twenty years, I didn't have two dogs. Heck, I didn't even have one dog. See? One and twenty....it's all good. Now, to find something that will keep my thighs from talking to each other....