(I accidentally posted this to the blog before I was finished. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow!)
To tell you the truth, I lied. There was no dirt from the dance. Everyone I saw was pretty well behaved and believe me, I looked hard for a newsworthy scandal. It was a totally different atmosphere from the Vivian dances of my youth. The ages of people having fun, ranged from 9 to 97. I didn’t have the stamina of those on either end. It was around 1:00 a.m. when I danced one dance with Dean Lindquist. By the time the dance was over, I was so out of breath, he had to help me back to the table before he found someone else to dance with. I sat next to Dean’s daughter Karen and she asked a guy across the table if he was a Nix. He said yes and Karen told him she went to school with his Dad. The generations were getting too deep for me, so I decided to leave. It hasn’t been that long ago that I was in good shape…or was it longer ago than I remember?
I got into the habit of telling people I’m a runner. I was for about five minutes. Actually, I ran 25 to 30 miles a week for about 15 years. I started when I was 40. I never was or ever claimed to be a Suzanne Brost. I ran the Boulder Bolder in Colorado with her once. Let me correct that statement. I ran the same race and came in about 30 minutes behind her. I blamed it on the high altitude and then of course there were TV cameras, so I changed course a little to wave at the cameraman. Billy was there for the big event. I’m sure he thought I had been taken somewhere by ambulance. I wasn’t even the last one to come in. My niece and her friend had a goal to be last. I think they got 2nd to last. They said it was harder than you would think. I have a feeling Billy put money on the outcome, which could have been good or bad. I was afraid to ask him what my odds were.
The official Certificate from the Boulder Bolder, signed by R.U. Sane. It adjusts my time for hazards beyond my control. It started at 56.23 minutes, but we got it down to 48.99 minutes. Sorry you can’t read it very well
The Turkey Trot in Dallas (8 miles). Kris and I ran it 15 times.
I ran several 10 k’s in and around the Dallas area. I won a few times in my “age group.” The next day, they would put the winners and the times of the different “age groups” in the Dallas Morning News. I always hoped my friends missed that portion of the paper. The times weren’t good enough to even want bragging rights.
Kip took his sister Kristin and I to participate in a Susan Komen Race for the Cure at North Park in Dallas. The race starts out at a snail’s pace and it’s quite awhile before you can actually get up to a jogging speed. Kris and I were in pretty good shape then, and decided to take off on our own through the beautiful neighborhoods. We had a fabulous run, and caught up with the tail end of the Komen race. We were laboring a little, and sweating almost as much as I did in the hot Harold Thune Auditorium. It wasn’t until we noticed we were nearing the finish and behind the people in their 80’s, mommies pushing baby carts, and the walkers, that we realized what was happening. We heard shouts of “You can make it,” and, “Just a little bit further. They were cheering us on. Kip looked worried. Then he finally spotted us and worry turned to disbelief and embarrassment. Our explanation fell on deaf ears. We kept getting the “You poor things” look.
I sound like I’m denigrating myself, but I’m really not. Every bit of it was fun and I did my best. I won’t go into my golfing career. Someone once described a nanosecond as the time it takes me to perform my back swing. I was actually pretty good, then I took lessons and it ruined my game.
My Cousin Valerie does Zumba and she is in great shape, however I noticed she didn’t dance. Anyway, I bought a Zumba tape and I really like it. I’ve watched it five times. On Monday, I’m going to try to do it. What do they say? Getting older isn’t for sissies. I try to just ignore it. I will always be younger than somebody.
You just have to stay active and aggressive