Feeling old, a running machine, and Aidan's 2 months old
2004-07-20 6:09 p.m.

I feel old today.

I don’t know why I have such feelings but today’s one day that I feel 10 year older than I am.

Part of the reason is that I didn’t run this morning. Another factor is that I slept funny on my pillow, and when I looked in the mirror this morning there were several lines on my face the pillow made that looked like wrinkles.

Whatever the reason for these feelings, I hope I feel closer to my age tomorrow.

***

While running last week I noticed that people were placing lawn and patio chairs along side one of the streets I run on. I start thinking there must be a parade of some sorts in the near future that residents want to save places for. Of course the big state holiday was two weeks away and it struck me as rather funny that people would put chairs along the side of the road (or that the police would let them put chairs along the road) two weeks before the big event.

So Saturday morning Marathon Girl and I went on a run together. As we approached the road I noticed an awful lot of people were walking toward the road carrying chairs or children. Others were trying to park their cars along the side road we were running down. We turn a corner and realize that today is the day of the parade (we later learned it was part of the city’s birthday celebration). Both sides of the road were packed with people waiting for the parade to start.

I was ready to turn around and either find another road to run or just head home. As I reach the crowd of people I slow down a little kind of hoping Marathon Girl would stop.

Not Marathon Girl.

She’s a running machine.

Nothing – not even a crowd of people waiting for a parade to start – is going to stop her from running.

She squeezed her way through the crowd and runs across the street and squeezed through the crowd on the other side.

I had to act quickly. The gap that Marathon Girl made through the crowd was closing fast. I could either follow her or let the gap between people close for good.

I managed to work my way through the crowd (which is a little more difficult when you’re pushing a running stroller), cross the street, and work my way through the other side.

Of course Marathon Girl was a distant speck on the horizon by the time I managed to make it through the other side. (OK, that’s a lie. She was waiting for me and was about to ford her way through the crowd again to see if I was going to make it through everone.)

I have to smile though when I think about her making her way through the crowd trying not to lose too much time off her run. Only Marathon Girl wouldn’t let a parade stop her from running.

She’s a running machine.

And I love her more than anyone.

***

Aidan is two months old today.

This morning when he heard my voice he smiled and cooed and was very happy to see me for some reason. Cute kid makes it hard to get out the door to make it to work on time. (Thankfully I only live about a mile or two from work which means I can run out the door with minutes to spare and still make it to work on time.)

Then there’s a “strange” habit he has when we put him to bed every night. After we feed him, we place him in his crib and turn out the lights. Aidan lies there (or is it lays there?) staring at the ceiling perfectly content until he falls asleep. This can last anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour or more. For some reason I think that he should be scared of the dark or something. Maybe he’s too young to be scared. Or maybe he’s happy to have some time to himself and think about whatever two month old babies like to think about. Keep in mind I have no frame of reference as to whether or not this is normal baby behavior. And Marathon Girl and I aren’t complaining about it since we enjoy having a little time to ourselves each night. We simply think it’s a little weird that a two month old baby can be completely content lying in the dark for 30 minutes to an hour before falling asleep.

But, like I said before, we’re not complaining about it. We just think it’s a little strange.

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