I wake and forget to take my medicine, but the doctor told me to stop running the first time he saw me since my heart rate was so slow - he is still my doctor and I never stopped running for him, my heart rate is still slow, where are those racy women to turn it up? Nevermind, as I ride to the Resolution Run I think about selling my first motorcycle in 1974 and not buying nor riding again until 2007, I have 8226 miles as I leave the garage this morning, after picking it up at the end of February. Roll on and lay over into the turn, smile bigger and brighter. I had only one car, wife gets that and I started running or biking to work, always about seven to nine miles from my front door. As a drill sergeant I then get to exercise with the troops and make them tougher than their mothers ever imagined possible, and that brings another serious smile and laughter, I loved that job until the generals got in the way. The running stuck, although I confess to only jogging now, the racing and running days are behind me. I change into sweats for the run, packing the leathers away, looking at all the slender runners in nylon and spandex with shoes that cost more than my cotton outfit. The run starts and I start and after a half mile my foot stops worrying about abuse and no longer painfully reminds me of the motorcycle it was pinned under - old wounds, old scar tissue and no flexibility in them, but persevere - always endevor to persevere. It is an out and back course, the five K runners fly back and look good, then the five mile leaders also fly back looking like heroes. I once thought I only did stuff to be a hero of some kind or level, but the truth is easier - I do it to be less of a slug, I am such a slug. I make the two and a half mile turn around and get to count the few people chasing behind me - but I am ahead of them, and according to my watch I am ahead of my worse performance fears, so smile and dig in and pour it on. But my enemy has laid a trap, I see pennies on the road, and I stop to pick them up, all fourteen of them, I leave nothing for the automobiles to grind into dust and relieve the government of its obligations. Then onward to the finish line and a burst of energy as a heavier younger man (who is old by my son's standards) passes me into the end of the race chutes. I have been beaten again, but remember that all those sleeping in and not running nor jogging today at all - I am five miles ahead and you won't catch me. Change again, eat the veggie chili and drink coffee for moisture, and get on the motorcycle and ride home a hero. A little sassy sash-shay wiggling and rolling on the throttle, it will be a great year already better than I deserve, head home to hot shower, broiled ribs and bok choy, and football games.