Today my son and I raced up a hill. It was a decent hill; a dirt track with loose rocks, tufts of grass and scattered leaves.
We started together, and he immediately pulled ahead. I watched him accelerate as my body slowed. I pushed harder and made minuscule gains, before he stretched his legs and left me panting in his dust.
Hours later, I’m still feeling it. He hasn’t let me forget he beat me, either.