Numbers and Words

Just two days until “The Mac” (http://www.mac.oregontrailseries.org/). I just checked the website, and was surprised (and flattered ) at the fact that I’m listed with bib #9. The first 30 bib numbers are assigned based on some in-decipherable code, by the race directors, to people who, I guess, have done well or are expected to do well in the Saturday’s race. #’s 1-20 are for men, #21-30 for women. Last year’s male and female winners are #1 and #21, respectively. Not sure how the other numbers were picked – I sure didn’t finish 9th last year, and people who finished ahead of me last year have lower numbers than I. Oh, the pressure! I’ll do my best to drag my low #, and my inflated ego, up and down the hills on Saturday.

The other good news is that I’m starting to feel almost healthy. I’m mostly over the cold and/or flu from last week. The stuff running from my nose is turning from a sickly yellow color to a lovely clear color. I think that’s a good sign. My resting pulse is still a bit elevated, but it seems to be slowly working its way back to normal. Yes, I keep track of this stuff. Last year my resting heart rate was really high before the Mac, and I did OK. Except for, you know, the pneumonia. So I’m still a bit worried. But since last year’s Mac, I _always_ get worried about pneumonia, or some other ailment, before every race. It’s part of my pre-race ritual. Usually I end up at the doctors insisting they listen to my lungs or take a chest x-ray or something. They must think I’m a wuss. I’m feeling good enough this time though that I’ll skip the Dr. this time.

I’m also obsessing about what pair of shoes to wear. As if my feet won’t be tired, blistered, and bloodied regardless. Should I wear the ones that give me blisters on the toes, or the ones that give me blisters on the balls of my feet?

Yep, should be fun.

In other news: Avery is 5 ½ today. Apparently ½ birthdays are pretty big these days. I told her I couldn’t remember ever turning anything-and-a-half in my whole life. This seemed to surprise her. I think she was kind of hoping for a party or present or something, but she settled for getting to choose what was for dinner instead. Actually, she only got to choose half of what was for dinner.

Incidentally, I turn 36 ½ tomorrow.