Forget Magazine. Remember, Remember, Remember.

Citius, altius, fortius

Over before you know it. A curve
            in the space-time continuum and so
                        quick he’s looking himself in the back
                                   of the head just as the race is about to
                                              begin. He’s already won, or will win,
                                   once the race is run, but from the couch
                         at home, where we’ve just recently tuned in,
             the announcer is cautioning us not to rush
to judgment on this one. Anything can
             happen between now and then, he says,
                        which is where our runner is at this very
                                   instant, vanished from our TV set, like
                                               so much of our lives given over to watching
                                   this dreck. Hard to believe we’d take
                         the bet given the odds things would turn out
              different from the way they will or did, but
who’s kidding who, we’ve covered the spread
              and are ready to kick back and crack a beer,

the fastest man on the planet was just here.

Matthew Rader may not be running, but he ain't standing still.