Well, I was having a terrible day up until about 6:28. You don't want to hear about that though, you want to hear about what happens after 6:28 Central Whatever Time. (CST? what does that mean? hooray for College...) Anyways, I went out for a 5.2 miler by the river. I honestly surprised the crap outa myself. At the turnaround point (the Ford Bridge) I looked at my watch and thought it was broken.
I ran 6:52's. It gets better though. This old guy, he said he was 72, was running with me on the way back. We looked at each other, and we knew it was on. It was like
Lock eyes from across the room down my drink while the rhythms boom...
Or something like that. There's something in a runner where he can look at the guy next to him, and with a slight nod of his head, kick the hell out of the last 4k or so. I've done it, but this was the first time its happened to me-- by a guy 54 years older. I had to laugh.
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