too old

I decided to run a 5K next weekend because physically, I can do it and because I decided I'm not too old to try something outside of my it's-just-what-I-do-box. Funny enough, I can count on my hands the number of times that I've actually ran, running is just not my thing. I have horrible memories of my high school physical education. My PE teacher use to call me Buns (which I come from a very small school with very few feminists). 'Buns, hurry up and get over here.' 'Buns, could you please put forth a little effort?' I never put forth any effort. I hated PE.

My most vivid memory of PE was the President's Physical Fitness tests (remember these?). We were running the mile around the track. Starting our fourth and final lap, at the lighting speed of 30 minutes a mile, my asthmatic best friend in front of me by a few paces and in the lane to my left, decided she needed to spit.

She must not have taken into consideration the wind patterns for the day or how that breeze was totally affecting our speeds. We both watched in slow motion as her snot flip flopped, top to bottom, in the air to land directly onto my jogging shorts.

Good times.

So why again am I running a 5K? Because when I turned thirty, it wasn't a big deal to me. I didn't feel old. I didn't wish I was back in college doing a beer bong or back in high school (doing the same). The only thing I started to feel about being thirty-something was:

When did I become too old?

When did I become too old to wear skirts and leggings, together? When did I become too old to get my nose pierced? When did I become too old to add subtle streaks of pink or purple in my hair? It's not necessarily that I want to do these things (though I am secretly jealous that some people can get away with doing these and it look fabulous on them), but when did my age become the first reason for not doing something?



So, I decided that it's snot not.