Trying to stay fit in 1980s London in my 20s, I would sometimes go running — plodding, more like — in Hyde Park, which was near my apartment.
One chilly morning, as I puffed along, I saw another runner. He was circling the Round Pond, a park feature that is what its name suggests. Within a nanosecond of noticing him, without really watching him, it was obvious he was an athlete.
There was something uncanny in the way he glided friction-free over the ground. Then, he put on the afterburners, and I had never seen anyone like it. He was not simply an athlete but seemed almost of a different species. Could humans really do that?
I stopped, watched, and realized it was Sebastian Coe, at that time the best middle-distance runner on the planet. He held several world records, a handful of Olympic gold medals — the works.
To see such athletes is to marvel at their God-given…
