This morning, I wasn't feeling a 6AM run and opted for a swim at the Sportsplex instead. I put on my flippy-floppies (no plantar's warts on me!), packed up my towel and drove to the Sportsplex, arriving at the same time as throngs of gentleman's league hockey players, aka old men.

Bleary-eyed, I made my way to the front desk where there was a bored-looking university girl working. By "working" I mean watching YouTubes. "Is there a lane swim right now?" I asked.

She tore herself away from TEH INTARWEBS and checked a schedule, then peered at me. "Well, there's an ADULT lane swim this morning," she said. "Buuuuuuuuuuut, how old are you?"

I was flabbergasted:
a) I LOVE getting ID'ed. Love, love, love. Especially first thing in the morning sans makeup and grooming!
b) I could not remember my age.

I stood there for several awkward sections, eyes rolling back in my head, trying to remember how old I was. I HAD NO IDEA!! All I could think was "1981....1981...." I could remember my birth year but I couldn't do the math. She might as well have asked me the square root of 1,342,434,094 or how to build a spaceship. Zero clue.

FINALLY I stammered. "Uhh, 28. I had to think about it. Huh huh!" feeling like the world's biggest assclown.

"Oh wow, you look really young. No offense," said YouTube.

No offense? Seriously? It made my day. I'm not sure what the cutoff age for Adult Swim is. It's not like drinks are served or strippers are bouncing around the pool deck. Besides myself, the combined age of the other three people in the pool was probably 1,000 years old. Not the liveliest group.

But as I backstroked for 45 minutes, all I could think about, besides swimming in a straight line and not ramming into the side of the pool, was the fact that I had no idea how old I was. Am I getting Alzheimer's? Is this a sign that I am indeed aging? Am I among the elderly? Am I forgetting my age or just consciously trying not to remember? Should I be worried that I don't know how old I am or happy that I don't care?

I decided to be happy about it. Embarrassed that I can't answer one of the basic facts about myself on the spot, but thrilled that I can pass for a teenager and a little pleased about not being so panicky about my age that it's constantly top of mind. I clearly don't feel 28 and someone thinks I don't look 28 either: win-win.