It is 1994. I have passed my 73rd birthday and once again I am at a starting line waiting for the signal to start the race. Why am I standing here? Why am I running this race or any other five miler, 10 k or half marathon? Is it my ego? To some extent. Does it enhance my physical health? I certainly believe so. Has running been a boon to my mental health? Without a doubt. As a few of us wish each other, 'Good luck!', I am basking in the excitement of the moment. The signal starts us on our way. My 73-year-old body is now surrounded by males and females, ages ranging from the teens to seventy plus. Did I say 'myoid body'? Well, chronologically it is. But if I place chronology to one side, and I seem to be doing that, I am aware that I have a great deal of energy. I will finish this race, go to breakfast with my 'running buddies', return home, shower and my wife and I will plan the rest of the day's activities. There is a sense of well-being for this aging athlete. Yet, thoughts and questions come into play. Will I be able to continue in this fashion? Oddly enough, I can recall asking myself that same question when I reached my 65th birthday, and I