I ran across a grocery store parking lot today, carrying coconut milk ice cream like a delicious football. It was perhaps a distance of 40 yards, which is much further than I ever carried an actual football. Aided, likely, by the lack of people attempting to tackle me. Aided also by the fact that I had purchased this "football", and was thus the only person who could reasonably be entrusted to carry it - whereas in my youth, anyone else at all would've been a better choice for football toting duties.
There was a car, you see, that had committed to the same route of travel as I. And, in the interest of general courtesy and self preservation, I decided to clear this path as quickly as possible. Which required the most running I've done in nearly five weeks.
And I'm okay.
The car did not hit me.
My leg did not snap.
It did not, in any way, feel bad. It did, on the contrary, feel quite good. Running is a movement pattern that makes sense. It feels natural, right. It works. And I did it.
Don't tell doc.