Any runner who seriously contemplates the gifts of our athleticism will come to a deep abiding respect for their own personal unique genetics. There is something unspoken between us and our ancestors, a sort of evolutionary nod to the greatness they achieved. As if by running, sprinting or sweating our body through any coordinated motion we are reconnecting with men, women and early primates long dead.
“Thank you,” we softly say down to our DNA, “you evolved such grace and desirable attributes.”
“No,” they reply from genomes buried deep within our souls “thank you! You still use what we worked so hard for.”
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