I just kicked 40 in the nuts!

Nice try, 40.

You tried your best to keep me down.

You even got your buddies 37, 38, and 39 to gang up on me. Those guys hit hard. They went right for my knees. They put me out of commission for 2 months. It took me about 18 months just to get back to 90% of my old self. As soon as it looked like I had them beat, 39 snuck up on me and whacked me in my left ankle. I was out of commission for another month. I was down, but not out. I wasn't going to let your thugs keep me down for long.

Then, staring on January 15, 2010, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You came at me hard, but I was ready. I backed you into a corner, and started to wear you down. I thought I was going to take you down easy, but you still had a few tricks up your sleeve. I've got to give you credit, those night cramps in my calves were a nice touch. I didn't see those coming. You never really expect to be wake up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain in one of your calves, as your calf muscles contract so hard that they practically tear themselves apart. Sure, I'm no stranger to those night cramps. 15, 16, 17, and 18 used to get me with night cramps a lot back in the day, but these days those cramps usually only show up about once or twice a year. I had never gotten those cramps on consecutive nights - until a about a month ago. Left calf one night, and right calf the next. Sure, you had me limping for a while, but that wasn't going to keep me off that treadmill.

Just when I thought I had you beat, you brought on that stomach virus two weeks ago. It's tough to have enough energy to run, when you go a full day without eating any food. It's took all my strength just to drag my ass to the train station the rest of that week ( to get to work ) when I could only get down about one small meal a day. Crap, I lost a lot a weight that week. You were literally wearing me down. When I finally got my appetite back and tried to run on Sunday, April 25th, I found I could only run at my desired pace for about half as long as I wanted to. Still, I knew I was close. If I could just get my strength back, I could take you out. Hell, I promised myself I would take you down one week later. I ran every day over the next week - knees and ankles and calves be damned. I asked my knees/ankles/calves to hold up for me this past week, and they did their part. They got me to Sunday, May 2nd, and at that point it was up to me. At 4 PM that day, it was High Noon on that treadmill. It was me versus you, nose to nose, mano a mano. I looked you in the eye, and didn't blink. You were going down.

Well, you know very well what happened on that treadmill. I matched my personal best time for 2 miles - a time I hadn't run since I just turned 37 - a time I hadn't run since you and your buddies went after my knees, ankles, and calves. You're toast 40. You're dead, and when I set a new personal best time in about a month or so, you are going to be buried.

I hope you've learned your lesson, 40. Don't underestimate me again. You better warn your friends. Tell 41 I'm coming for him. If you run into 50 let him know I've got him in my sights too. Let him know I'll be spending the next 10 years training for our battle. He'd better watch his back.

Rich

P.S. OK. I admit it. Everything above was rather silly and self-centered. If I don't stop patting myself on the back soon, I'm going to wind up pulling a muscle. Buy hey, I'm pretty psyched. There were times when my knees and ankles felt so bad, that I had serious doubts about whether I would ever reach my goal. Perhaps, my knees will give out tomorrow, but at least I got all the way back for one day.