The old grey mare and I have something in common

We truly ain’t what we used to be. I should probably speak for myself; the old grey mare may be just fine. I, on the other hand, am definitely not what I used to be.

I ran yesterday, four miles at the glacial pace of – are you ready? – 13:39. Parts of the run were fun (the downhill parts) but most of it was Just. Plain. Hard.

I had a post-run snack and then headed out to plant seeds. I’ve mentioned previously that I like to finish a project all in one session, and I had every intention of planting every seed I had, but after about 90 minutes I was done. So done. Unfortunately a little less than half the garden (it’s a big space) remains unplanted.

After I showered I proceeded to eat my house, an activity that continued for the remainder of the day. Good thing I don’t buy junk food; I managed to do plenty of damage with taboulleh (mmm) and Triscuits and low-fat cheese, oh my.

I creaked around here like an old lady all afternoon and evening. It was difficult to move, to go from a sitting to a standing position, to walk even. I had to remind myself that I’d not only run four miles, but I’d also done some hard physical labor in the hot sun and I’m not as young as I used to be. I fell asleep at 11 p.m. and the OTC pain reliever wore off at 5 a.m. Old people take naps, don’t they?

Looking outside right now, it appears that I have a small window of opportunity to get the remaining seeds in the ground before it rains. And rains. And rains some more. Which is a good thing – if it rains, I won’t have to wrestle with the garden hose.