I used to be fast. Like winning road races and sprinting-past-defenders-to-score-goals fast. That was when I was in first and second grade. A skinny, pale kid with freckles running like the wind.

My introduction to road races was a 2-mile fun run in California. The medal is buried somewhere in a collection of items from my childhood, either in my mom’s house or in my basement. I remember running alongside my dad, who, unbeknownst to me, paced me the whole time.