Notes
I decided to go out for another 6. Nice and easy. Returning home on Main Street, I looked at my watch and saw 7:00pace. Wow. Felt great. I'm really moving! Just then a UVA running-back, a black man with basketball shorts, white cotton-T, headphones and a scullcap, blew by me. Well, shit. So, I tucked in his six. He didn't notice. I took him at the bridge. I called back, "Come'on, man; I'm 40 and this is mile 6. Let's go!" The pace really heated up. We were sub-6 -- flying down Main Street in the semi-dark of street-lamps and head-lights. I held that for about 600m, not really knowing if he was still back there. Right about then we passed a place were lots of black folk hang out and people-watch. That's when he smoked me. Nice powerful strides. Muscular w/o lumbering. A powerful chest steaming forward over forceful knees. Legs jetting back the long strides in total control. Another 200m and he wound down, looking at his iPhone and the end of his workout. I tapped him on the shoulder while passing and shouted, "great workout man, thanks." I ran at a good clip until I turned the corner out of sight. I huffed and puffed to get my breath back. Beaming smile on my face the entire jog home.