Remembering when

I decided to run tomorrow's five-miler here at home. It's an awful race: late start (7:45), in the heat, not my favorite distance. Whatever. It's a run and I'm determined to run while the old legs will still carry me. That said, my head was still all negative and oh-I-hate-this-start-time and yadda yadda.

While C Claire and I were driving home from dinner with Lynne tonight I got to thinking about a time, not so long ago, when if the day was fine (translated: cold) I felt like I could run forever. Running came to me late (42) but changed my whole world. So I decided to stop being so gloomy about the five-miler and, the heat and late start notwithstanding, will run this race with a fabulous smile and carry in my head, with each footfall, the recollection of how much I love this sport.

I am a runner. I'm not a great runner, but I am a runner.