triage for your head

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March 6, 1999

I lost a lot of time today trying to get my watch battery replaced. Bartell's Pharmacy couldn't break the seal on my Timex Ironman yesterday so I brought two watches (a Citizen and a Gitano, if you can believe it, both salvaged from postseason lost and found at the Long Island country club where I was pool director from '91 - '95) but both required a jeweler's tools so running late I went to rendez-vous with Sarah at the Bikesmith. I left my own bike for repairs and borrowed her recently redone one to race to job interview at Laurelhurst Beach Club, strapping the dead Gitano to my wrist and hoping that they wouldn't quiz me on it. It probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway--hair uncut for 16 months, unruly beard, wearing shorts and torn running shoes (the only ones with no laces to get caught in the crank), one would almost have thought that I didn't really want the job. Actually, it was only after the interview, when I met Sarah at a fork in the Burke-Gilman trail for a sunny afternoon ride around the lake, that I decided that, yes, yes dadgummit, I did want to spend my summer supervising a bevy of teenage lifeguards lakeside. But by then, of course, it was too late.