Every morning I go out for what I like to call “a run.” It’s not really a run. It’s not even a jog. It’s more like shuffling along. But anyway, I go out, and for a man of my advanced years, that’s not too bad. (And don't go telling me about Ronnie Ward and all his Iron Man trophies. He's younger than I am, and Acree-trained, besides.)
Some mornings, I see other people out getting exercise, and today was one of those days. The person was too far ahead of me to make out much about him (or her), and in cases like that I like to test myself by seeing if I can gain any ground on her (or him). So I start shuffling a little faster, although “faster” isn’t exactly the right word to use in this context. Today it was a struggle, but I found that after a while I was gaining a little bit, not much, but enough to encourage me. I tried to pick up the pace, and eventually I found that I’d gained some more. Still not much, but at least I was gaining. The old guy still had it! Or so I thought until I finally realized that the person was walking toward me instead of away from me. I knew I’d slowed down a lot, but this is ridiculous.
