A few decades ago, already over 15 years removed from my years of competitive running, I struck up a runner's acquaintance with an Olympian in training who held more than one American record. One day I saw her starting her run just as I had completed my first loop around a mile-long track. I resolved to stay ahead of her as long as I could, and somehow managed to stay ahead until I had finished my four miles. I waited for her at the turn so I could say hello as she flew by, but she stopped and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath, saying she was supposed to run only three miles that day. Then she looked at me and said, "Well you're looking fit!"
That was the last time I ever saw her in person.
I remember that day and laugh whenever some Internet rando tells me he's so much fitter than I am. It doesn't happen often, but more often than you might expect.
That was a long time ago, of course. A couple of years ago, when I ran in a half-marathon race, my pace was about 45% slower than in my prime. In my heyday, I'd have finished third. Even so, there were twice as many runners behind me as in front of me.
