Back in my days at Blacksburg High School, as part of the Presidential Physical Fitness Awards (do these still exist!?), we had to run a mile. Now, I couldn’t run my way out of a burning building much less 4x around a track… in the sun… amongst judgmental peers and whistle-toting teachers. Dreading this day kept me up at night. My asthma was ripe at that age and any running rendered me a wheezing mess. But not wanting to be favored, I jog-walked the entire thing as fast as my engine would allow. I consistently rounded out last place. Sigh. Certain teenager death.
Flash forward. My asthma healed itself with age and I’m a bundle of physical activity. This morning I biked to the very scene of all those crimes. Goal = lap my high school self and complete the presidential mile. Well, three miles later, I’m proud to say, the track (and its associated demons) was sufficiently killed. The wicked witch is dead! Cue the roaring crowd of one. [patting self on back]