There are days when I feel like this:
I feel old, pieced together, utilitarian, squeaky, rusty, beat up, and over worked. But, like this truck, I keep on running.
And there are days when I feel like this:
Exactly my age (35), faded, maybe passed my prime, but still a little muscular and aggressive. Cool even. And, I keep on running.
Maybe once, maybe, I felt like this:
Sleek, elegant, quick, agile, powerful, nimble, ahead of the common competitor, and down right sexy. Again, I think I felt this way once. It was probably after a run.
The act of getting that internal engine going, churning out some horsepower while cruising (or chugging) up hill, and hugging the corners out there on the roads is my #runhappiness.
It’s not what vintage I am, what my purpose or raison d’etre may be, who I take for a ride (ha!), where I was built or which nameplate I was given, it’s whether or not I keep on running that matters.
I would sure like to feel like this again though: