From 25 to 108 in minutes

Run around town changes perception

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly a day can change. One minute, your face is warmed by the sun of your highest high and then, because of all the squinting and basking, you plummet off a cliff and directly into the “Gloom, Despair and Agony on Me” chorus from “Hee-Haw.” In the snap of a finger, you go from the penthouse to the outhouse — just like THAT.

There are the big things in life, like the phone call telling you something bad has happened to a loved one or a news report about tragic events of the day — moments which leave you breathless and change not only your day but life.

More often, though, there are the small things — a word misspoken, an incident in traffic, a sad song — moments our emotions latch onto and drag our cheerful moods to the basement for sulky rumination.

Take, for instance, the other morning. I received a text from a client asking to pick up some paperwork. Oddly, I had dropped off the papers at her office about 15 minutes beforehand, and messaged her back to that effect. She replied she was told that a girl about 25 years old in a Jeep dropped off a package for her, and it reminded her that she still needed to pick up documents from me. Turns out, those documents were the very package I’d just delivered.

Wait, a girl about 25? I could’ve kissed that young doorman who accepted the box. “I’m nearly double that age!” I squealed.

I felt amazing. I felt invincible. I felt hot!

I beamed the rest of the afternoon. To keep up this hotness, I decided I’d get back to doing my 4-mile walk around town to get some exercise. It had been a long while since I’d done that route, and it was warm outside, but hey — I’ve done that route many times before and look at me, I’m 25! After work, I threw my hair in a ponytail, donned my sneakers and headed out the door.

I felt amazing. I felt invincible. I felt hot!

I was killing it as I powerwalked down “A” Street. Feel the burn, I thought. Why not jog a little, get the ol’ blood flowin’?

Two blocks down, I wiped my forehead and gasped at the muggy air. I stopped to adjust my headphones when a Bentonville school bus approached. That’s when I heard:

“Don’t give up, lady!” “You can do this!” “Keep going!”

Rotten little crumb grinders. To them, I was 108 and knockin’ on heaven’s door.

I felt anemic. I felt myocardial infarction-ible. I felt freakin’ HOT!

Not to be defeated, I dragged my beet-colored self the 4 miles home to rest beneath an air vent. To some, I’m 25. To others, I’m 108. As with much of life, neither perception is true. Whether we’re the peacock or the feather duster, there’s peace in our plumes, if we seek it within ourselves.

But I think I’ll steer clear of school buses and Buck Owens, just to be sure.