Old Age + Tag = Black and Blue

Okay, so I realize I'm not that old. Only slighty more then halfway through my twenties, in fact. And I'm okay with that. But while my mind is all good, my body does not seem to be in agreement.

My hair, for instance, is going a little gray. I'm getting those little streaks in front of my ears that makes me worry I soon may resemble Bonnie Raitt. And since I'm growing my hair to donate to Locks of Love--an organization that makes wigs for children with cancer--I'm a little concerned how the child that receives my locks is going to look. I don't want her to look "mature" before her time! Hasn't her life been hard enough?

And then there's the rest of me. I may be able to stop, drop, and roll, but I sure can't get up as fast. As global warming was in full effect this weekend, I took the time to do some frolicking in Central Park. A slew of my college friends were visiting for the weekend and my boyfriend was in tow, so it seemed liked just the right number to start a friendly game of tag. While some of us are still pretty agile, quite a few of us, myself included, managed to take a nice spill or three. And let's not forget the near head-butting collision. And this is a children's game, for crying out loud! When that got old, we turned to a game of Red Light, Green Light. That lasted for about five minutes. And let's not forget the classic game, Throw the Acorns at the Ducks in the Pond. PETA enthusiasts love that. I"m not sure if anyone ended up feeling sore from all that throwing. Lordy.

These days a night of heavy drinking requires three days of recovery. I've completely giving up my crack useage because I just don't have a week to take off every time it comes around, and as I've learned from Whitney Houston, crack is wack.

Worse yet, my old man is showing me up. The man has run like four marathons at this point, the most recent one in his 50s. Seems I didn't get those genetics. At this rate, I just hope I make it to my 30s.