Color Me Old

So my body is breaking down. The decent into old age has begun, as evidenced by my grouchiness toward street youths, joint pain, and love of hard candies.  But I've decided not to surrender without a good struggle...I am dedicated to slathering my face in creams, eating foods that grew on a plant, and to staying active. 

I like to run. Traditionally I do it in an effort to be less fat, but lately, what's motivated me more than anything else is the thought that someday I might not be able to run. At least not without hurting a lot later. So I want to soak up the feeling of my own legs carrying me swiftly (or not so swiftly) anywhere I please.

I do not aspire to ever run a 26.2 mile marathon, but I did a half a couple years ago that I enjoyed and would do again. I'd never run any other race, so conference weekend, ran a little 5K with some friends. I only went on a couple runs to "train," but I am always really good about carbo loading every day in case something like this comes up. Have you heard of Color Me Rad? It's the race where people throw color bombs (dyed corn starch) at you throughout the course, and everyone gets completely hyped up about it like it's the best thing to ever happen to them. 

I was surprised to discover I don't own a white t-shirt...so had to borrow a giant ugly one from Andrew the morning of.

 It was pretty fun...and they did a good job of pumping you up beforehand by blasting Zumba music and having pro dancers going crazy onstage. I love to dance, and do it almost involuntarily anytime the music is right. But when someone took a secret cell phone video of me busting a move - I mean, really going for it - then posted it to our Relief Society Facebook page, I realized I was not a gifted dancer. Like...at all. 

Suddenly I felt pretty good about old age robbing me of my ability to move.