Was (where else?) at the High Bridge Trail.
I'm back to my normal step count.
To everything, there is a season. Nobody outruns aging. But that's beside the point. These days I'm almost twice as slow as the race winners. But I'm happy. I'm happy to be alive, healthy, and vigorous. Running still excites me, regardless of the pace or distance. Running means that I'm alive and well. Which is a beautiful thing and a huge undeserved blessing.
A U.S. President once said, "It is not the critic who counts. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood. At the least, he fails while daring greatly." I agree.
Dare greatly, my friend.