Things I can't seem to keep up with...

1. Brandon. He's so damn fast. Not sure how he can run at the pace he runs in this heat. I am all excited to try running a single mile on Saturday and I'm afraid he's going to laugh at my speed. Truth is... I like meeting people at the trail head and running my own pace and then hanging out with said people after we're all done... but there's really only a couple of people I've ever consistently been able to train with - Betty Norman and Paula Billman. And ain't none of us racing any more. What does that say?
2. Water. The garden needs more of it than I have time to put down. I watered and it's still withering. I'll water again. But at some point I wonder if it's just a waste of my time and the earth's natural resources.
3. My debit card. Left it at a restaurant last night. Third time I've done that this year. At least I know where it is.
4. Personal Hygiene. There isn't enough clinical strength deodorant in Texas to keep up with this heat. I'm a sweat factory. And I shouldn't live here. But what's worse is when I forget to put it on. Which happens more than I care to admit, frankly.
5. Sunscreen. I keep thinking I'm using enough of it, but my freckles say otherwise. I obviously took the message about tan skin equaling sun damage (wrinkles, discoloration, rough texture) to heart. Now, when I see that I'm not pale and pink, I am upset.
6. Time. Where in God's name has it gone? Wasn't it just yesterday that my fondest desire was a white cotton jump suit with a red belt (I asked for it for my birthday) and Farrah Fawcett's hair? The jump suits are back and they're still hideous. And after spending two years growing out this mop on my head, my sister tells me I look younger with short hair. I'm turning 40 next week and I can't believe that I've spent four decades on this planet. It's a good thing we do this living thing one day at a time, because otherwise the thought of it is overwhelming. I know it's a cliche, but I don't feel 40. Well, check that. Mentally I think I've always been about 40. I just can't imagine that I've been here that long. Really... my childhood was a long time ago. It was another century. And for what it's worth, the memories don't seem to be fading.
But these thoughts do lead me to a hypothesis... perhaps this is the inherent conflict of the middle-age crisis. 1978 seems like a very long time ago, but my childhood seems to be just a moment ago... and as I try to reconcile this I am suddenly aware that I must reclaim my youth, and that I must do all the things I'd dreamed of. NOW. Before it's too late.
Brandon tells me that it's never too late because age is a matter of how old or young you are in your head. This from a self-described worrier. Seemed so simple when he said it to me, though. Too bad I don't think it's possible (for me).
Another common conflict - the lack of ability to have personal perspective. Sigh.
But back to youth. And my dreams. They are not gone. And while I no longer want to drive a Mercedes, I do want a boat. And a house big enough for all my friends to stay over. And lots and lots of traveling.
So, if you don't mind too much, I think I'll stick to those dreams. Call it my mid-life crisis.
At least it's not cherry red and expensive to insure.