Creeeeak…crackle, crack…pop, my joints were tuning up, definitely off key. I leaned forward to touch my toes and felt the sttttreeetchhh of my hamstrings. Owww. I hung there for a moment, the blood rushing to my temples. I stood up slowly, my back sore, and surveyed the track. Not too much activity today, a good day to post a record, ha. Should be easy…since I don’t have one.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had tried to sprint around a track, could have been 20, nearly 25 years ago, man. The air was cool, damp with the morning dew, invigorating I thought. I looked down at my shoes, brand new Nike’s. I had never worn Nike’s, always too small in the toe box, new formulation. Maybe that’s what I needed, a new formula.
I jogged slowly up to the start, then…went for it. The first 100m felt great, the next 100, pretty good, the next 100, man, how big was this track, ok, just 100 more. I collapsed, exhausted. Breathing heavily, I looked down at the watch.
Not quite what I was hoping for.
I got ready to start out again. Looking down the track I saw an older man rounding the first bend. I set out, aiming to pass him. As I closed in, I looked back over my left shoulder and heard a pat, pat, pat. A young boy was effortlessly running trying to hoist his kite into the air. I looked forward, I was getting closer and closer to the older man, further from the young boy. Such is, I thought as my quads twinged, I’m getting old.
No, not today. I put my head down and sped past, rounding the bends and sprinting back around, heaving. My daughter looked at me perplexed. “You’re going too fast” she said, “I can’t catch you”. Good, I thought. I’m still faster than a 2.5 year old and a 65 year old. For now.
