Tom called me this afternoon to remind me that I had a snowshoe race on Saturday. I remembered, but I was kind of hoping he had forgotten and I wouldn't have to go through with it. Have I mentioned that I lack coordination? Snow shoe hiking is fine, I can stay on my feet most of the time. When I pick the pace up to a jog, I stumble, step on my own snowshoes, and often land on my face. But, I said I'd do it so I will. It should be fun, or at least interesting.
Today I went out on the roads for a two mile warm up with Bart then hit the treadmill for my "speed work." It still seems funny to call 7 minute miles speed work, but it's all I've got right now. Anyway, I was supposed to do 2 miles at 7 minute pace. I hung on for dear life for 1 1/2 miles before having to slow the pace down. Is this what getting old feels like? I don't think I like it. On the bright side, if I can hang on to what little speed I have for another 30 years, I can probably set some age group records. There is always a bright side.
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