It has been nearly two years since I laid it on the line. It has been nearly two years since I fell short. It was not the finish I envisioned.
Two years have passed.The bones groan more. Joints creak more.
My muscles complain more vociferously. Recovery requires more. Fatigue comes more quickly.
I can't stand toe to toe quite the same way. I don't have as many haymakers in me as I once did. I rarely feel spry.
I could let it go. Maybe I should. Maybe all of my bests are behind me.
I could live with that. But, I would also have to live with the knowledge that I didn't end things on my terms. I don't know if I can live with that.
Maybe something is left. The wheels can still turn. Sometimes I can coax them to fly.
Creaks and groans are abundant, but I can ignore them. I can filter them. They are just an annoyance.
I can still endure. I can still suffer. I can still fight. I can still fly.
Maybe there is something left. It may take everything I have. It may require things I have never done before.
Doing things you've never done before is part of what defines a runner. I am well acquainted with this territory. It's familiar.
There is at least a vague possibility that I have one last great race in me. This vague, faint, remote, half baked possibility keeps me on board. It keeps me coming back.
I run because I have one last great race in me.....