I am not young anymore at 69, and I felt it all the more this morning.
I decided to do the 10k from our house to the next town, a rolling tree-lined route with a number of not so easy alternating descents and ascents. It has been quite a while since I took to this route which I sometimes did three or four even five times in a week. That was all before. I was in my mid-fifties back then.
I stopped briefly along the route to the next town a couple of times, did some short walks –no more than a minute-- on my way back, and went on my slow plod through the ascents, all the way back to where I started. The whole routine took a little more than 2 hours.
As I was nearing the turn back to where I started, a younger looking man, maybe in his 40's or 50's greeted me. "I often see you run; sometimes I try to give chase but I can't keep up," he said. "Your pace is slow, but steady."
"I do what I can," I said, which is the truth.
Somehow, the frustration of not having had a better run over this route again, disappeared. I may be old at 69 and just several months away from 70, but I am still here plodding slowly just like a stubborn old dog.
I can say I am blessed.
