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Article
December 17, 1982

Walking in the Peachtree Road Race

JAMA. 1982;248(23):3153. doi:10.1001/jama.1982.03330230057036
Abstract

I had to do something about my midlife crisis! I was finally convinced that nothing functioned better with age. I had to see what there was left. Many of my friends entered the midlife crisis on the jog. They seemed to be outrunning their crises. I envied them, their faces contorted and drenched with sweat, as they stood gasping and grasping their knees to keep from pitching headlong to the pavement. There was nothing left to do, but try it! I bought running shoes with lightning bolts on the sides, shorts, and a brightly colored undershirt. I began slowly and built up. It was no problem getting my heart rate to 170 or 180 beats per minute. In fact, it would climb to 200 with the slightest exertion. Finally, I was running 2 miles every other day. I thought it was normal for my knees and ankles to swell and

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