I'm not complaining.
I can't run a 6-minute mile any more. It's been, what, three years now? It's too much effort. Life is too short.
But I ran a 6:44 mile last week--just one, mind you--and thought, "Man, I'm like a @#$% gazelle."
This afternoon I ran three miles at 6:55 pace and I felt like I had just won the Olympics.
The secret is to forget you were ever young. Pretend you're 80 and God has given you a 52-year-old's body for the afternoon. Then take an Ibuprofen, stretch a little bit, and take 'er out for a spin. You feel like you're flying.
Hey, it is what it is.
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