The children are leaving me in the dust.
In my first report on our training for the upcoming 5K race at the Illinois Marathon, we had achieved a new milestone: 2.4 miles, four-fifths of the way to our 3 mile goal.
I haven't made a whole lot of progress since then. With spring break trips, twice-a-week soccer practices, and other obligations, we've found it had to squeeze in training sessions more than once or twice a week.
That, apparently, does not matter if you are 10, but if does if you are.... older.
Two weeks ago, I decided my son and I should do a training session on our own, because we were having trouble lining up schedules with our training partners. I didn't tell him this until after school -- he thought we were going the next day -- and he didn't like the idea.
After listening to much grousing, I agreed we would only do 1.8 miles instead of our 2.4-mile routine. Then he promptly talked my ear off during the entire run and was barely winded.
A few days later we did our full 2.4 miles with our friends. He finished a quarter-lap ahead of me. As I slogged toward the finish, sucking air, he said he felt good enough to do another lap.
Then this weekend, while I was out of town, he and our friends ran the actual 5K route, no problem. At least that's what they tell me.
True or not, I'd better get busy. At this rate I'm going to be one of those people who finishes after they declare the race over.
It's still five weeks until the race. I hope I make it.