In many respects the older one gets the slower one becomes. Not true for the running and jumping and skipping antelope who is yours truly. You see, I set an all time record this afternoon. Not bad for someone my age who tries to pretend that he is still a young-buck athlete.
That's how long it took me. Normally my afternoon lope through the countryside takes me somewhere between twenty-four-and-a-half to twenty-six minutes. Why all of a sudden the big spurt of acceleration and the tremendous energy? How did I completely blow away my previous record of twenty-four-and-fourteen?
(Then again, what are the odds that the very moment I crossed the finish line, the driveway of my house, and hit the stopwatch, that the hundreds of seconds froze exactly to "00" right in time? One in a hundred you might say, but I say not.)
The turnstile into un-reality. The black-hole taking me to nowhere. Whoosh and then there it was again. Don't die of a heart-attack or else.
How did it happen? Don't know, but it feels good anyway.