Childhood reflections with a touch of grace: Watch your step!

I grew up with a fatal flaw in my running technique as a kid. No matter the game or circumstance on the agenda, I tended to pay a lot of attention to who or what was behind me. This was especially true if I was being pursued by a moody canine with a taste for leg of Mickey. It seemed the right thing to do at the time, though I often stepped in a hole or tripped over a blade of grass, forfeiting any lead I had over my pursuers. I couldn’t help myself from being obsessed with what was behind