Today, as the distance between him and me increased, I noticed that I felt pretty good.
It actually felt great to run again; to stride out, lift the knees, pump the arms. However, by the time I reached the neighbor's mailbox, I was done. My little "Floyd Landis" was not.
Sometimes, as my previous blog mentions, I run for myself. Sometimes, I run for others. I think the later will be remembered and appreciated more.