(after some false starts) in 2005, and that is what I shall be until both pass on, some indeterminate time from now, at the same moment. I’ve come too far to retrace my steps now. The kind of runner I will be, in the next decade, and the one after that, will be different: less competitive with himself or others, less eager to find new worlds to conquer, but also less obsessed and less narrowly focused on the next square of pavement ahead. Runners slow, and runners fail. Some are grinded away by the friction on knees or feet, or a chronic lung or heart problem; some unlucky bastards are knocked
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