Man, my friend Dana retraced her first 5k route from high school cross country last summer and texted me in total disbelief. She swore it used to be this brutal, endless stretch past the old lumber yard, but when she drove it the whole thing was just eight quiet blocks and a slight hill. She said the ghost of her teenage self was still panting at the corner where she'd always wanted to quit, but present-day her just finished her coffee and kept driving. It's crazy how our memory turns real asphalt into mythology.