I am a bit vain

A young lady came up to me before the race this morn­ing and asked where she knew me from. Yeah, yeah, “do I know you from some­where?” What­ev­er. Actu­al­ly she did sort of look famil­iar, but we could­n’t find any com­mon ref­er­ences. I talked to her about what I like about my run­ning club (the host of the race), which is, for one thing, the diver­si­ty of run­ners. We have six-minute mil­ers and six­teen minute mil­ers. Most of the races have teenagers and septuagenarians.

She looked at me and said, “yeah, but I don’t see very many peo­ple our age.” I looked at her face, won­der­ing if I’d mis­judged her age. Many Cal­i­for­nia women are remark­ably well-pre­served, and I find myself uncon­scious­ly for­giv­ing of many of the signs of age that I’m show­ing. She must have caught my quizzi­cal look, because she asked how old I am.

“I just turned thirty-six.”

“Oh, sor­ry” she said. This woman is twen­ty-five years old and had come to this par­tic­u­lar run because it was near her dorm at SF State.

“No, no, no…thank you!” I said, “You just made my day.”

She crossed the fin­ish line almost sev­en min­utes before I did. She was the eighth fastest woman out there today. I was the six­ty-sixth fastest man. But if she thought I was “her age” oh I like that plenty.

Leave a Reply