All she needed were pom-poms

The other day I ran past a little girl, about two or three, who was skipping alongside her mom. “She’s running!” the girl announced. “Why is she running?” “Because she’s good at it,” said her mom. I looked back at the girl, with my rosy, wind slapped cheeks, and gave her a huge smile before picking up my pace and continuing on my way. About 10 or 15 minutes later, on one of my turnarounds, I heard that carefree, joyous voice calling again. This time, the girl was pumping her legs fast on the swings with her mom pumping beside her. “Look! She’s still running,” she said, giving her mom a play-by-play worthy of the Olympics. Again, I smiled, before focusing in on my form and picking up my pace. Another 15 minutes passed, and I was on my final leg of the run, I was growing sluggish, I could …

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