Fast.  One of my favorite four letter words of any rating.  It seems that a lot of runners shy away from using that adjective or the various versions that exist of it (faster, fastest, getting faster, you get the idea).  Don’t know why.  Getting faster is kind of the point of running, or at least one of the main points.

I am not saying all people are fast. Running by its very nature has a hierarchy.  Not everyone can win the race.  People, especially runners, know this hard truth.  It is one of many hard truths learned in running.

Regardless of how one might feel about this particular f-word, I firmly believe that in all of their reasons for putting one foot in front of the other, runners seek to be fast.  Maybe not to win the race, but to pursue  something that is beyond what they were.  To go somewhere and do something that someone they love cannot.  Or even running for a complete stranger.  My point is that you are faster than you were.  You are improving.  As the poster/cliché/quote goes, just by running you are faster than the person sitting on the couch.  So congrats, go be fast.

For my own purposes I love running fast. I love lacing up spikes and getting on the track or cross country course and just ripping a hard interval.  Two to five minutes of focus and then you get to rest. Fast can be fun.  Though to paraphrase the American hero Toby Keith, “I’m not as fast as I once was, but I am fast once as I ever was.”  Or so I thought Sunday morning.  Lincoln Mile was contested once again.  It is one of my favorite races in the area.  I had some solid workouts and was hoping to run a faster time than the 4:49 I mustered. Another sub-5.  Didn’t feel that great doing it, not sure if it is ongoing injuries,  age, life, work, but I ran as well as I could and that is that.