I find myself these days as enthusiastic about running as I was in the mid-'70s when I first took up the noble sport. It is perhaps the proximity of the Grim Reaper, his sharp scythe glistening in the Arizona sunshine, that has imparted a spring to my step and a glide to my stride. With the ultimate Repo Man on my tail and on my trail, I am out to grab for all the gusto there is while the sun shines. I'm fixin' to make like Walt Stack who is gone but not forgotten. How do you stack up?
The guy was a Commie, but I can forgive him that. Running covers a multitude of sins.
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