Well, it happened once again.  The cold, wrinkly grip of Father Time has grabbed me and reminded me of my place in this world.

This weekend, I ran the Fifth Third River Bank Run 25K.  I’m not new to the running thing and have done a bunch of marathons and other races before.  Bottom line is, after a long run, you always feel like crap.  Everything hurts.  You’d think it would be limited to legs and maybe lower back, but no.  Your shoulders hurt.  Your calves hurt.  Even your ears hurt.  Over the last few years, I’ve gotten pretty used to it and have various ways of dealing with it.  No big deal.

This weekend, however, was a little different.  I had one of those moments where I realized how old I was getting with one simple phrase I uttered to Meredith.  We had gotten home from the race and I had just gotten out of the shower.  My calves were particularly sore and I needed some relief.  That’s when I said it.  Five simple words that made me seem like I was at least 50 years older than I really am:

“Do we have any Bengay?”

Good lord.  I’m 30, not 80.  Mere laughed at me, as she should have.  Bengay?  Really?  What’s next?  My reading slippers and a Gin Rickey?

Ugh.  I disgust myself sometimes.