You’re not old. You’re youth challenged. That’s what I say to myself when I look in the mirror.

On the wall next to the mirror is a picture of me running the fastest marathon of my life. I look strong. I look fast. I look dangerous. 

The memories of that race burn brightly. Nearly a decade ago, my body let me do some amazing things. It still does now, just not as often as I’d like.

Sometimes it tells me I am still that runner. But, it tells me other things I would prefer to ignore. They’re important messages, but some things you just don’t want to hear.

I love a great night’s sleep, but I loathe getting out of bed in the morning. A veritable symphony of complaints erupt from the body. Aches, pains, and stiffness conduct this symphony.

These are messages I could do without. I yearn for the days when I could leap out of the bed in the morning and feel spry and invincible. I can’t quite recall the last time that happened. It’s a bit fuzzy.

That’s not surprising. ‘Nearly’ ten years is a long time. A lot can happen, including your brain getting fuzzy.

Age happens no matter what you do. Adhere rigidly to your diet, do yoga every day, run every day, don’t drink, and age still comes for you. It’s an unstoppable force from hell. 

It never loses. It can’t be reasoned with, it can’t be bargained with, and it absolutely will not stop.

I would love to be the runner who blazed personal bests ten years ago. Who wouldn’t?

It may happen again. I haven’t abandoned all hope. But, I am becoming a different runner.

I am becoming the ‘zen’ runner. I am becoming the runner who is just happy to be doing it. Anything more than this is gravy. 

Running is a relationship. At least, it has been for me. Relationships evolve. I am trying to evolve. Admittedly, it isn’t always easy.

It’s easy to get caught up in the memories of what the relationship used to look like. It was passionate. It was intense. It was true love.

But, the love is still there. The fire still burns. It’s just more of a slow burn these days.

The days of personal bests are (likely) behind me. I’m not thrilled about this idea. I’d like to notch a few more.

But, when I first fell in love with running, it had nothing to do with personal bests. It was about finding flow. It was about the runner’s high.

This is what I loved. This is what I still love. I run because the love is still there.