Running

   Every once in awhile, I feel like running. Generally I'm outside walking somewhere and I get the almost overpowering urge to run. And I'm not talking about jogging around the block or something like that, I'm talking about flat-out, pick a target about 100 yards away, hell-bent-for-leather running.
   I suspect that if I were anywhere where there were no witnesses I would probably do this. Also, the fact that warming up is something that probably should happen first inhibits me  somewhat from spontaneously bursting into breakneck speed. Well, okay, the term "breakneck" is somewhat inhibiting itself....
   I used to be fast. When puberty hit I transformed from the "fat kid" everyone made fun of to the fast guy people wanted on their team. I played sports incessantly--basketball, touch and tackle football, road hockey, tennis and soccer. Often I came home with blisters on my feet, compliments of unforgiving tarmac. My untested theory was that my years of carrying around a few extra pounds had strengthened the old leg muscles and then when I burned off all the weight I already had a head start, speedy-wise.
   It took me awhile to figure out that I was fast. This concept didn't occur to me until I started playing touch football on a regular basis, at first just with my buddies and, later on, when I played in a touch football league. I very clearly remember running with the ball, being chased by guys on the other team, toward the sidelines. I remember thinking I was running out of room and no way was I going to get around them and then I simply just turned it up a notch and managed to just barely turn the corner on them. These were always "holy crap" moments, surprising even myself. One time, one of my friends showed up with a camera and was taking random shots of guys during a game. I didn't pay much attention to him but days later, after the film had been developed (this was long before digital) he showed me a picture he'd taken of me running down the sidelines with the ball. I was in full stride, my feet not even touching the ground, my long hair (those were the days) flowing straight out behind me. I have no idea what happened to the pic but it was always one of my favourites and seemed to capture the essence of the joy I used to have in being "fast".
   In the touch football league, the guys on my team very quickly started calling me "Roadrunner", they knew they could pretty well send me out there to catch a pass and I was gonna get past the guy covering me. Now, this didn't always mean I was gonna catch the ball...
   I remember lining up for the start of a play once. The opponent across from me took one look and yelled at his teammates for "help" because he had "speed" out there! These days I look down at my gut and have to giggle a little at the memory.
   Speedy guys have a very limited window of opportunity within which they can enjoy this gift. It wasn't long before I found myself getting caught from behind occasionally and this kind of took me aback. I remember thinking, "Oh yeah, I thought that might happen eventually", and didn't let it bother me.
   Then I started helping to raise a family. Just not the same amount of time to devote to sports and the pounds came back, slowly. Eventually, I found some time to get back into being a little more active and joined the local ball hockey league.
   By this time, however, I was in my late forties and slowly moving into the early fifties. All the guys I was playing against were in their twenties and thirties, for the most part. Many, many times I lined up against them and wondered what the hell I was thinking. What I found, for the most part however, was that the young guys neither were able to run around me nor catch up to me. Now, before I go any further, I really had to make sure they didn't catch me standing still or going in opposite directions! Although my straight ahead speed served me well enough, my turn-right-around-and-catch-a-guy speed was the pits. That's where a little experience helped out. A lot of times players would come down on me with the ball and they'd get kind of this look in their eye (I imagined) that said "I'm just going to flip the ball past this guy and run right around him". Well, that almost never happened!
   So, as I mentioned right at the beginning, I still have this urge to run fast every so often. The one thing I don't ever find myself doing is running around with a bunch of other old guys (I'm almost 60 now). So I often wonder what that would be like. Not that long ago I came across some kind of ad for Masters track and field. I did a little investigating and found video of men in their seventies running sprint events somewhere. So this is sort of my new dream, to get involved with a little track and field. But not running distances, I hate that, it takes too long. Ever wonder why you see so many joggers out there with headphones on, listening to music? They're bored. Me, I just wanna run fast, for about 12.5 seconds at a time!

I'm thinking I could take 'em...

   Step one in this little quest is to lose about 30 pounds, can't really have that slowing me down.
   After that, who knows?!