Another year, another birthday. I'm officially a fortysomething. So I'm 41. Big deal. I can still bring it. Whatever "it" is.
It actually was an interesting day. I got out and ran a strong 20-miler. It was a nice fall day, I felt good, and all was well until mile 15, when I stopped to buy a Gatorade in Beverly Farms. I went to pull out the $2 I had in a Ziploc bag with my cell phone from my fuel belt and found that the zippered pocket was open and there was nothing inside. I was flabbergasted. Had my phone fallen out somewhere along the route? Or did I just forget it? I remembered putting the phone and money in the bag, but I couldn't recall if I actually put it in the belt. I hoped that it was sitting at home. When I got home, it was nowhere to be found. Deb and the girls got home from church and we drove part of the route but couldn't find it. We stopped at the Verizon Wireless store and had them suspend the phone line just in case somebody found it and decided to use up the minutes. Then we headed into Boston to go to the Museum of Science, which held a science teachers day for which admission was free. The girls had a blast and I TiVoed the Pats-Dolphins game. When we got back, we drove the entire route of my run but couldn't find the phone, so we figured we'd just get new phones, since ours are three years old, anyway.
Boy, was I glad I recorded that football game, because it was awful. The Pats were smoked, 38-13. The only positive was I could fast-forward through the horrendous affair. It wasn't much better for me on the baseball front, as the Jays were blanked by the Sox.
We had a nice dinner and the girls gave me homemade birthday cards, and as Deb was putting them to bed, I took one last look at that fuel belt. And sure enough, there was the friggin' phone, wedged in the front of the thing. Oy.