A Slow Starter March 6, 2010

I ran seven today, and as usual, the first was the slowest. That has probably been the case for every run I've ever had, going back to high school cross-country. I just can't seem to get myself to go hard from the beginning. It just seems to take a mile or so to get my breathing in a regular rhythm with my legs, but once they're in synch, I can pick up the pace without a lot of trouble.

As it has been my preference on my average training runs, so is it in my races, too. I don't mind feeling out of breath and exhausted at the end of a competition, as much as I hate being gassed before the first split. Because, when that happens, I begin to flail and lose form in the middle portions, before fading at the end. I prefer to have a stronger finish, rather than a blazing start. I love being able to pass people in the last moments, and hate it like Hell when someone does it to me.

I have likewise been a slow starter in The Race of Life. I was not just a late bloomer, I was a bloom buster. The first appearance of a "muscle" was actually a smudge of dirt on my forearm that I left unwashed my entire sophomore year in high school, in the vain hope that I would no longer be challenged to arm-wrestling matches by girls from the junior high. Chest hair had to be taken from more mature teenagers, then laid in strips between my nipples, the same way new yards are sodded.

Financially, too, I am a little behind my peers. I am not just working on my first million at 47, I'm working on my first thousand. Maybe I should count my net worth in Paraguayan guarani. That way I could issue impressive statements like: "I have 40 million in the bank." (Of Asuncion.)

But, perhaps I've only begun the second mile of my life-long jog. Even if the first 47 years were done at the equivalent of a ten-minute pace, I feel as though my legs are finally under me, my heart is strong, and my lungs are moving in and out with an unstoppable rhythm. As long as my knees hold up, and I live to be one hundred-and- forty, I can catch anybody.

Thanks for reading.