Running Red Momma

I fought blogging for a long time because it seemed so strange to stick personal details out in public. But then I found how fun it has been to record stuff that just doesn't belong in more serious memoirs. My weighty concern is a personal grooming curse. I have always been a hairy sort of woman. When I taught Asian students in my outreach programs, they would pet my arms and ask me what was wrong. "Genetic misfortune" or having one's family history be ape, I would explain. The malady has always given me the thought laser would be better than the oodles of supplies I purchase in a vain hope it will stop the undergrowth. Laser treatments seemed so extravagant I would stop myself. Until now...I have the most unfortunate of pregnancy complications. I cannot stop getting ingrown hairs in my rather large (think ape) bikini area. I speak of grotesque monsters with their own names. (If you want further descriptors, I could email--don't think I will provide photos.)

Recently, we watched my BIL finish a triathlon. He finished strong and got a medal which was fun. As we watched the buff male and female bodies stride by us, the muscles were far more interesting than a typical running race. Running usually involves lanky, spare frames that run forever. Mastery of three separate sports requires time, devotion and some decent equipment. We found ourselves looking at their bodies and trying to guess their ages. A triathlon will have the age written in marker on one calf and the gender on the other one. This kind of racing creates muscular bodies which seem to defy age expectations. We were stunned by how well kept some of the racers were. It was so easy to guess how old someone was and then just glance down at the person's calf. Just think how fun life could be if two simple stats could be printed on one's calf. This information could be of immense help to interested parties. The rules only allow two facts. So you need to get to basics.