Fast Company

Ty and I completed our 21-mile park run last Sunday morning with a flourish, kicking in the final 800 meters at a sub 6:00-minute pace. Dueling to the finish, we left numerous recreational runners in our wake. In the end, Ty folded and the X-Man cruised in about 11 seconds ahead. Though it was only a training run, the point was made, the gauntlet laid. As we broke out the Gatorade and began to break down our morning jaunt, a woman came trotting by. "You are fast," she said, staring me straight in the eyes without even acknowledging Ty. In more ways than one, baby—in more ways than one.

Later,
Racer X