I feel like my legs are getting worse and my running is getting slower; I feel like I have no business joining an athletics club and spending time trailing in after much faster runners.... but then there are also nights like tonight.
I was the 312th man to finish at the second Summer League race of the season at Holme Pierrepont this evening, but I ran the 5 mile course at an average pace of 7m 50s per mile (as fast as I've run over any distance in some time. In fact, my magic mile time trial the other week was only about a minute quicker than that) and - most importantly of all - I really enjoyed myself. I think it's pretty clear from the smiles and the sprint finish I managed at the end that I'm not the kind of runner who likes to beast himself, flogging out every last iota from my body. I prefer instead to hold something back, but that's okay too.
I actually look like I might be enjoying myself. Maybe there's some life in the old dog yet.
I'm not quite dead just yet.
Also, sun's out, guns out....
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