Karen and I are pictured here eating dinner at Tortugas, celebrating Ellie turning 17.  I turned 17 forty years and two days prior to this photo.  I posted an email from a friend a couple of days ago on FaceBook, that captured the spirit of aging gracefully.  We were discussing whether or not it was juvenile to still be athletically competitive.  My friend said, “You start being old when you stop having those thoughts.”  I agree.

Maybe that’s not being graceful.  Maybe that’s refusing to yield.  Maybe that’s pure narcissism.  When I’m running an event, and I’m in decent racing shape, I love getting into a race.  If it’s a marathon, the race might only be for a few miles, somewhere in the middle.  In the Bolder Boulder 10K, my racing starts at mile 4 on the top of Casey Hill at 13th and High Streets, and continues to Folsom.  I don’t generally kick it in through the stadium, because kicks are for kids.  But I will race kids, and women, anything with two legs.  It is juvenile, and it’s fun.

I had another good weekend of running.  I’ve been running hilly trails to maximize the training potential.  I’ve yet to establish a weekday routine, but that’s next on my list.  My weight is trending lower and I’ve rediscovered my running pace and form.  It would be more comfortable to simply sit in my chair and read, like a graceful gentleman, but I’m not done competing.  Not yet.  I’m currently training for the Aspen Heavy Half Marathon, August 10th.