I am a woman of a certain age. By "certain age," I mean that I am somewhere between my mid-20s and my mid-30s... the age when suddenly, seemingly within a few months, you go from being happily a singleton in a sea of singletons, to being the lone singleton in a sea of married, home owning, baby-bearing friends. For me, it had been creeping up slowly over the past two years, and it reached a breaking point this past week when one of my friends told me she was pregnant with her second and when my work tried to pressure me into opening a college account for my yet-unborn children.
The motivation behind this post? When I tried to create my fancy little weight loss widget you see over to the right, I was faced with the fact that something like 99% of widgets like that are baby-countdowns. NOT YET, people, NOT YET. I may have what looks like baby weight, but it's actually cheesesteak weight.
MY QUEST TO QUALIFY NOT JUST FOR THE OLYMPIC TRIALS BUT FOR THE 2016 OLYMPICS IN THE MARATHON (to do this I will need to halve my marathon time)
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Babies! Here, there, and everywhere
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