As it turns out, the secret to running appears to be heart-shaped sunglasses. Who knew?

The kid’s a whirling dervish. Jumping jacks while Mom stretches, sprinting the straights, ponytail in hot pursuit, constant motion.

I, on the other hand, run one decent mile before surrendering and shuffling through the other two.

The difference? Surely it must be the sunglasses.

Running is wasted on the young. They fail to realize what a Serious Endeavor it is. I bet she doesn’t even monitor her stride length or vo2 max. It’s like she’s running for fun or something. Weirdo. oh, well. The system will break her spirit soon enough.

hmmm. Or maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong. Maybe running like a kid is the key? Forget the splits and just have fun?

Nah. Gotta be the sunglasses. I wonder if they make New Balance Beacons with velcro instead of laces …