I hate getting old

I'm old. There's a reason I haven't written about The Countercockwise Jogger lately and that's because I haven't been on the track. And I haven't been on the track because I pulled something in my calf. And I pulled something in my calf because...I am old.

I've aged more in 5 years of my 30s than I did in the entire 10 years of my 20s. WHY WHY WHY? I eat healthy, I work out, I don't smoke or drink much. It's so unfair. I used to be relatively cute - yes, I can say this now because I'm not 19 anymore. So yes, now that I'm in my 30s I can safely say that I used to be cute.

And now? Now I'm using Loreal 6R to keep my hair red, I'm pulling muscles, my face is sagging. This is total BS. I don't deserve this.

But what about all the wisdom I've achieved over the years? Yes ok I guess there is that. There is a lot of truth to the saying that youth is wasted on the young. But I wasn't particularly naive even when I was young.

-Sigh- At least I can say that I lived my late teens/early 20s well. I did enjoy being young and cute and smart. My mid to late 20s sort of sucked with all that flailing through jobs trying to figure out what I want to do. Of course I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do, but I guess I'll save that for another whining blog post.

And if I'm really going to whine in this post, I'll just keep going and bitch about the unfairness that women get uglier as they age while men get sexier. How is that not a built in biological reason for men to cheat? Of course, I think women get a lot smarter than men in their late 30s through 50s (and probably beyond) so I suppose there is that. Not that it matters in the workforce because women are almost always held back for being women. And not that it matters in their relationships, because by that point we're smart enough to kick them out. So how does it matter that women are smarter? I'll have to mull that one over.

In the meantime, my calf hurts.

Wood Factor (1-5): 1.

The Jogger Returns

He's back. And he's watching me.

The Counterclockwise Jogger was missing for almost two weeks. Maybe I was arriving at the track later; maybe he was out of town; maybe he's reading this blog and knows to be afraid of me. But he turned up yesterday, this time with a woman. And an added mystery: he's walking. Walking with this woman. Who is she and what has she done to make this guy a Counterclockwise Walker?

I don't even look at him anymore. I know what he's going to do: jog into my path and then sigh and grunt and hiss "What the hell?" while I flail in the grass trying to get around him. So when I saw him, I kept my eyes to the ground pretending to be engrossed with the podcast on my iPod. But there was no podcast. Only silence. I had the sound turned off so that the sadomasochistic side of me could hear Counterclockwise Guy spit out his hatred.

I ran. He walked. I got closer. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his eyes on me. I decided to risk looking up, and guess what I saw? A clear path. Space! Enough room between him and the grass so that I could jog past him without sideswiping his shoulder. I turned my head just a little as I jogged by, and I saw that he too was turning his head, and staring right at me.

Meeep! He's probably put a spell on me.

Wood Factor (1-5): Undecided.