Not gonna happen
Not today.
Perhaps if you got me during my first lap. After all, I was on a recovery run and my right calf was giving me grief. I was running slowly, just enjoying my time outdoors.
But something funny happened after that first lap. I stretched some more, and I loosened up. I still forced myself to keep it slow; I’d go only as fast as felt good. By the time you came up on me, I had run about 4.5 miles. I felt GOOD. “Spirit of the Marathon” was spurring me on. I could hear the “slap, slap, slap” of your shoes against the gravel behind me, but I refused to slow to let you pass. Did I mention I felt good?
Sure, if you had passed me I wouldn’t be disappointed. I’ve come to understand and respect the role of the recovery run. But I decided if you were going to pass me, you were going to work for it. I don’t know what happened to you (heck, I don’t even know if you were a guy or a gal), but at some point I stopped hearing your foot falls.
Perhaps you were done, or perhaps you decided this old broad was too fast for you to pass. Doesn’t matter, ‘cuz I felt GOOD.
