Fast Guy comes by me in a blur.
I’ve seen him out running a million times. Gaunt, bronze, blonde ponytail, significant other always riding with him on her cruiser bike. Shirtless, short shorts, racers, always landing on the balls of his feet. Effortlessly cruising. I feel like we’re old friends.
But today was the first time I can recall that he ever passed me. We’ve always been going different directions or different routes. Until today.
It was truly humbling. I was the elephant, waddling along in the jungle, as the gazelle went by. Having seen him so many times, I felt like we were old friends. I wait for some sort of acknowledgement. A wave, a hello, a nod over his shoulder. Nothing. Gazelles aren’t as friendly as you might think.
In a flash, he is gone, a tiny reminder far ahead that I am not a runner. I’m just a tired old man sitting in the shadows and banging out songs on a toy piano, pretending I’m still at the concert hall. Still, I’m playing my best. It’s my song. And that’s enough.
OK run. Still too hot (84, 75-159), but tomorrow’s a day off and the blessed cold front is to arrive Saturday just in time for the long run.
Six miles at 13:52 rp. Comfy and controlled. I spent the entire run with “Space Truckin” by Deep Purple in my head. It’s 140 bpm, which is the walking pace I’m shooting for. A fine song the first 30 times around. Gotta get faster with the walk. And less ’70s with the playlist.
I guess we’ll find out Saturday what’s what. First long run.
Maybe Mo should get a cruiser bike. Damn gazelles …