No. 45: Has-been


15568059036395683356620073790618Several months ago, I started training for a marathon. I gave myself 13 weeks to train. I knew I was cutting it close, but I was a runner in high school. Sure, that was more than 30 years ago. Whatever. I thought I’d have no problem.

I trained with my friend Aaron, and even though he’s a few years younger than I am, I got a crick in my neck talking to him because he was always a few paces behind. That’s always how it was. I was the fastest on my cross-country team. I was the head of the pack.

But then six weeks into training, I tore my calf muscle. On marathon day, I stood on the sidelines while I cheered Aaron on.

Months passed and I healed.

Last week, I ran with my friend Margery. She’s 11 years older than I am and I was looking forward to a light jog and conversation. Before she fired the starting gun, she said she wouldn’t be able to talk and I was like, “Cool, I’ll get to talk the whole time.”

For the entire 40 minutes, the only words I could say were, “Slow down.” (READ FULL ESSAY HERE.)

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