I think I'm ahead.



I ran track in high school one year (And yes, I fell down); the 880 and 1 mile events. I wasn't too bad at the 880. I even earned a ribbon. But the mile? Bleh.

In one race, I fell so far back that I was eventually lapped by all the other runners. But just before that impending moment of humiliation, for about 400 meters, I was out in front. All alone. Looking like a winner.

The winner.

And as I trotted past the grandstands, grinning like a fool, I pretended I was just that. The winner.

Moments later, of course, I was overcome by the herd victorious and thereby doomed to trot the final lap of shame. Alone.

But trot I did. Still grinnin'. Just a little.

I have some knitting updates, and planned on posting them tonight. But I fell behind. Right now, it feels like the Sand Man cometh, and is about to lap me. So I'm just going to trot along to bed, and pretend it was my idea.

Maybe tomorrow will be another day.

p.s. Thanks for all the words of encouragement on my ass, and stuff. Be sure to read the comments on that last post. MamaCate knows exactly. And Ryan, boot cut are perfect for my middle age lumps. Waist high mom pants just squeeze my gut up my boobs.

pps I'm way behind in stuff. And stuff. I'd meant to respond to some comments. But for now, I'm squealing out of here.

Labels: Yore