51 and running like....

I’m 51 and running like…I struggled to complete this sentence.

Here I am, an AI consultant doing trainings on how large language models predict words in a sentence, yet I couldn’t get my own brain to finish a statement so deeply tied to my identity.

I’ve been running for as long as I can remember. As a child in Portugal, with a two-hour recess, I ran. I was the kid always wanting to play tag, always moving. That feeling—the one I still chase during speed work—has been with me forever. I used to wake up before sunrise, go to school in the dark, and run before classes even started, just so I could sit still without getting in trouble.

When I moved to Langley, VA, I ran track all through high school—a sprinter. I was lucky to have an incredible coach and ended up competing in the Penn Relays multiple times. What a feeling!

There were times in my life when I barely ran, yet everywhere I’ve lived, people associate me with running. It’s part of my identity, a constant in a life of short stories. And yet, I often find myself saying, I do other things too.

I swim, bike, run, and do strength training. But I’m not a biker, definitely not a swimmer. I enjoy the compound lifts and plyometrics in strength training—love the results—but nothing moves me like running. Running lives in me. No one ever really breaks into that tiny circle that exists between me and my running. Why? I’m not sure. It’s how I relate to the world, to life, to myself. Everything feels real and alive when I run. It’s where the most honest conversations between body, mind, and soul happen.

Don’t get me wrong—it’s often a struggle. I have to push myself. Races hurt. I suffer. I question why I put myself through this kind of pain. But that’s what makes it real. It’s a great representation of life.

So let me try again—

I’m 51 and running like… me.