Consistent running for the past two weeks--including a couple long runs--has been a welcome return to routine.
Fifteen miles yesterday was nice and reflective. About halfway through the trek, I was feeling confident and healthy, thinking, Hey, I got this. I'm back. I got mad running skills.
As these and other thoughts of grandeur flowed freely through my mind, I heard the familiar warning, "on your left," coming from behind me.
I moved over to the right side of the trail to make room for a guy pushing his child in a jogging stroller.
Ah, yes, I thought. I remember those days taking the kids on my morning run. Good for him.
I glanced over to give my fellow father a kind nod and word of encouragement.
And that is when I was passed by a dude pushing a punching bag and a 45-pound plate in a jogging stroller up a hill at a much faster clip than I was able to muster with only a half-empty Nathan pack and an empty granola bar wrapper.
Screw that guy.