This little tweak turned out to be a serious enough ding to send me to the sidelines for much of the past month, so I’m fat and grumpy. Over the last week, though, I’ve been out a few times for slow shuffles that felt okay. I’ve had some help from a trainer who’s stretched, kneaded, and tugged at me, seemingly to some effect, and we’ll see.We’ve got lots of local fitness runners out there every morning. Several women, especially, never miss a day. Some of them go quite long, and most of them look terrifically thin and fit. They’re clearly not training for competition. They go slow, they go easy, and as a result, they go without that swinging rhythm that has always given me so much pleasure. But they never miss a day.
There’s a lesson in there somewhere.
The question is: can an old crock whose wheels are clearly no longer holding up face reality, or is he doomed to chase performances he can no longer realistically aspire to?
Doomed to chase is clearly the stupid answer, but for this fat, grumpy, creaky old guy, it’s still the honest one. Just let me train one good season.
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