I am not a good runner.
My form is awful, I am terribly slow. I pant. Groan. Not a pretty sight. Right now in my triathalon training, I can run 1 mile. Which I consider quite a feat considering that 7 weeks ago I panted walking up and down the stairs.
But back to running.
How bad is my running? This bad.
When I was about 14, our dear friend Tom Brennan lived with us on Governors Island. He was like a big brother to me.
And in true “big brother” fashion, he really knew how to piss me off.
We were playing cards one summer afternoon. I am quite sure he was cheating. Probably I thought that because I was losing. But never mind. I mean, I am not a sore loser or anything.
I am not exactly sure what happened. I know I threw cards at him. And he laughed in my face. Then ran out the door and around the quad where we lived.
So, naturally, I chased him. Eventually I caught up. I was in an all out sprint. He was barely breaking a sweat.
Then came the huge insult. He turned around and started running backwards. I am chasing him like a crazy person, running as fast as I possibly can, and I could not come close to catching him. Running backwards. Laughing the whole damn time.
I can only hope, that like wine, I will get better with age.