On an impulse I invited my 11-year-old to come running with me—or actually, as I phrased it to him, come outside and race me. The boy has a budding interest in running and triathlon, and the last thing I want to do is make it seem boring. Besides, I was supposed to be doing short bouts of sprinting, and what better way to get that accomplished than to race?
We jogged for maybe three minutes, with me explaining to him that I was old, and if I didn't warm up a little I might hurt myself. He said he didn't mind and that if he got tired he could just walk—which he then demonstrated, easily keeping up with me. (Oh, snap.)
We went out onto the bike path near our house and had four races of about 10 seconds each, walking and resting in between. We had a ball and came home huffing and puffing, having also raced to the front door. I didn't really feel like I had gotten a workout, but now, a couple of hours later, I can definitely feel it in my legs.
And who won, I suppose you want to know? Let's just say I'm going to want a rematch.