Facie’s Ramblings

When I turned 40, I don't recall feeling older. I was in pretty good shape; I ran semi-regularly (I think!). I was still swimming and doing Zumba. But I was not working full time then, so I could be at the top of my physical game. I gave up my pool membership and Zumba mid-afternoon class once I went back to work, and I run only sporadically now, mostly because I am lazy but partially because my body fights me more often than not when I attempt to. Ah, that body of mine. As I sit here and type this, I am feeling a slight pain in my left heel. It started over the weekend, and has caused me to limp since then. Today I finally called a podiatrist. But unfortunately they can't see me for 2 weeks. Back in October I had a similar pain in my right foot. By the time my appointment rolled around (actually about 2 weeks prior), the pain went away, so I canceled. Why spend the $40 specialist copay? The hub blames it on running. I don't know. I was never a hard-core runner. At the he...

Can someone please tell me I am not alone in feeling as if I were a different age on different days?! I am 42 3/4, and quite comfortable sharing my age with anyone. This is due mostly to my mom's shaving four years off her age and my finding out about it in the seventh grade, via looking at her yearbook at Grandma's. But the other reason I don't bother hiding my age is because if you are not getting older, then you aren't doing anything (except, perhaps decaying in the ground). You are welcome for that visual! But feeling and/or looking a certain age is another matter entirely. I think I look around 37. I don't know why I have that age in mind, but I am quite convinced few people would guess I was in my 40s. In fact just recently, two gals in the choir, who are somewhere between late 20s and early to mid 30s seemed genuinely surprised I was 42. I told them I think of myself as 37, and one said she thought I looked even younger. (She is my new best friend.) The ot...

This afternoon while at the pool, J told me to put out my arms as she was going to jump into them. I obliged for some reason, but quickly regretted it, as her weight put quite a strain on my back. I grimaced in pain, which made J feel bad, and she immediately said, "I don't want to get older. I just want to stay like this," amid tears. She then went on to say that she does not want to grow up and that she wants to always live with us. I told her, as I have before, that of course she can always live with us, but I also said that when she is a teen, she probably won't want to be near us. Then she will go on to college and have fun and again won't think home is so great. Eventually she may find someone to marry, and she will want to be with that person. And she may one day have kids and will love them as much as I love her and they will be whom she wants to be with. Her response to this? "But when I have kids, you'll be dead." Sheesh, girl, it's n...

I am 41 today. Pretty uneventful age compared to the big 4-0. But I am fine with that. I try to be thankful and grateful that have gotten to live 40 years already. Here's hoping I get well over another 40. As I reflect on the first 40, I feel pretty good. I had a great childhood, full of many wonderful memories, mostly focused on spending time with my family. I went to Europe in high school, and thanks to my disdain for travel, I am okay that I will probably never return. I had a great college experience at Penn State, where I made many friends, fell in love with hockey, and furthered my devotion to football. Oh, and I got a pretty good education. I also sang "Ave Maria" at midnight mass just after I finished my degree, which was a nice way to enter "adulthood" (that coincided with a broken heart, but I am focusing on the positive). In my 20s I had a lot of fun hanging out, volunteering, working out, and that sort of thing. I also got my first (and second)...

Last week I posted about how I thought I should still be able to run as fast as I did a few years ago; I just cannot seem to accept that I am getting older and things don't work as well/fast as they used to. But my bigger concern is just how forgetful and absent-minded I have become over the past few years. Isn't 40 a little young to be losing your mind?! Case in point: As I was putting away groceries from the seventh circle of hell today (i.e., Walmart), I did not see my grapefruit juice carton that I had had juice from this morning in the fridge. I looked to see if I had left it on the table. I checked in the cupboard, as I have been known to put milk and juice in once or twice. I also looked to see if I put it on the baker's rack with the cereal. I even checked the garbage, even though I was quite certain the carton was still about a third full. But that juice was nowhere to be found. About 30 minutes later, hubby comes into the kitchen as I was unloading the dishwas...

I spent chunks of time today writing a post on this morning's Race for Pace. I would add more details and then take something way. Ultimately, I ended up boring myself, which means I would probably put most of you to sleep. So here is an abbreviated post, in a list. It was probably about 35-degrees at race time, but sunny (it was 29 degrees when I got there 45 minutes earlier). My attire of a long-sleeved t-shirt, a windbreaker, yoga pants, socks as gloves, and a knee brace (one of those flexible-stretchy things) from early this century turned out to be the right wardrobe. I was relatively pain-free the entire time (knee brace was a good call); even my feet hurt very little (though during the first mile, two of my toes were numb from the cold!) I started off strong, kept a pretty steady pace, struggled a bit near the end up the last hill, but "kicked it in" as best as I could the last tenth of a mile. Having my friend Diane there cheering me on really helped. As I ...

On Saturday, God willin' and the creek don't rise, I will be running in my first 5K in two years. I started slacking off on my running last year, pretty much all the way through the beginning of this school year. But when school started back up this year, I rededicated myself to running at least once a week, and I have done that, for the most part. So I decided to turn this running into something that "counts" at least once this year. And since I have done the Race for Pace before, and it is only a few miles from my house, it seemed like a good race to do. New for me this year is the age group I will be in: 40 to 44, which apparently qualifies me as a master. Huh?! What the what? Whatcha you talkin' 'bout Willis?! To me, 40 is not old to be a runner. I see runners of all ages. Granted there are many more younger than older runners, but just looking at the results from last year's race, I noticed that 42 out of 135 males and 32 out of 100 females were...

In less than an hour, I will be 39. I have no bad feelings about this. No feelings of impending doom because I will be 40 next year (God willin' and the creek don't rise, as dad always said). No feelings of sadness because I have not yet accomplished a lot of great or impressive things. I just want to be glad that I have made it this far. Proud because I am in pretty darn good shape, thanks to running, swimming, and just keeping active in general. Thankful that I have a roof over my head, food in the house, a healthy family, and a still-working husband. Grateful that I get called in to substitute (even if it is not as often as I would like, considering the day I had on Wednesday, I should probably be glad). Lucky and blessed that I have been able to spend the amount of time I have been with my kid over the past 1.5-plus years. Fortunate that I live in the US, where we have freedom of speech and religion and the right to vote. And happy that I am able to write this blog (and f...

Late this afternoon, I arrived home from a three-day trip to Texas. This trip was not really for pleasure; unfortunately, my mother was recently hospitalized for a handful of things. Before she got out, my brothers decided that she would be better off, at least in the short-term future, living in Texas, where she could stay with my little brother and his family and have access to better medical care than what she was receiving in the small local hospital in her area. I went to Texas to spend some time with her and help her and my brother and his family in the best way I could. I am kind of numb about the whole ordeal. For over a week, I spent an insane number of hours on the phone talking to doctors, nurses, and many relatives and family members. I went back and forth to the hospital, a two-and-half-hour round trip, a few times. A car issue, still not resolved, further complicated matters. Nine years ago this weekend, I was riding in a truck with a friend en route to visit...

I am an overprotective parent. I know it. I own it. But I have gotten better in the last couple of years. If Brian, on the other hand, had his way, Jordan might never leave the house without a helmet, various padding, and under two constantly watchful eyes. Actually, he would probably prefer her that way at home, now that I think about it. You have to know your kid, really. And I know that at least for now, I don't have to worry about my kid opening the front door and walking out. I know that my kid won't stray too far from me when we are running errands. I also know my kid has my coordination, which means she is likely to get hurt running around or participating in a sport. I also know my Jordan has a sweet, sensitive heart. She cries when she watches or hears about the suffering of others. I love when she says, with gusto, "God does not appreciate people being mean." And although she is no longer terrified of Heaven, the thought of anyone other than old people ...

Today I celebrated birthday 38. Nothing too monumental about that one, although I am pretty sure I can no longer deny that I am in my late 30s. Funnily enough, I did tell a group of students a few weeks ago, when I was impressing them with my stretching abilities, that I was almost 40 and could do that . Who says they are almost 40 when they are still 37?! Regardless, I never understood lying about your age. My mother did it for years, until one day when I was at grandma's for the week and happened to look at some old yearbooks. Strangely enough, she was a senior or junior and yet her two "older" brothers were underclassmen. A quick attempt at math also revealed that she must have graduated from high school when she was 13. I showed the evidence to Grandma Yoyo, whose reply was, "Your mother was gifted." When I further protested, she told me to ask my mother. That was worse than finding out the truth about the guy in the red suit! But back to me. I had a great w...