I do not speak French. However, the proverb "The road to hell is paved with good intentions" was the first thing that came to mind now that I have finally taken just a few moments to sit and write. After a very brief internet search I found the proverb is attributed to the quote by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux as above. Translated his quote is, "hell is full of good wishes and desires." Isn't that the truth...
I've intended on blogging and doing a podcast for a long time now... as in at least 3 years. I've had countless ideas, great ideas, and even prepared things to say and what have you. However, I always seemed to have found a reason to not sit down and just do it. It may have been the kids had some sort of function; my wife had something planned; I was too exhausted; etc etc. The reasons are countless. However, I love to write and share my experiences. Like my running, this can be the "one" thing I do for me, about me, and take whatever path it leads.
Life will pass me by if I let it. As a matter of fact, until I was in my 30's that is exactly what I did. I missed innumerable opportunities to better myself physically, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually.
I was a timid kid all in all; one of those that struggled on the inside but had no issues putting on a slapstick-happy go lucky front when painted into a social corner, which was often. I was the kind of kid that would do something just because it wasn't the norm - like track. The cool thing to do for spring sports at the tiny high school I went to was play baseball. When I say tiny I am not exaggerating very much - my graduating class was 49 people. So, at least in baseball they could put together enough skill to actually win some games. Personally, I LOVED playing baseball and came from some strong baseball genes. I was pretty freakin' good if I don't mind saying so myself. As a runner, I was a relatively portly adolescent fraught with freckles, pale (albeit clear) skin, and a listless view on where my future would lead. Note, the best characteristic there was being a ginger! I was relatively fast - for the first 40 yards, after which I quickly gassed. However, given the right motivation I could be pretty darn quick - my fastest 1/4 mile was 58 seconds. I'll tell that story another time. My point is, I wasn't aspiring to be a runner; I wasn't aspiring to be a shotputter; I was simply aspiring to define myself as something different than the norm and, by God, I was going to in my own way and throwing normalcy back in the face of those that looked at me as odd was just the way I was going to do it! For the record, I was elected "Must Unusual Personality" in the mock elections my senior year - a title I still wear proud today.
My senior year of high school was relatively uneventful except for my attempts to enter the United States Navy. Ever see "Full Metal Jacket?" Remember the line, "You're a disgusting fatbody, Pyle!" That most certainly would have been me if I had actually made it through to boot camp. However, my portly physique, of which I carried all of my juvenile and adolescent life, caught up to me and prevented my from ever being able to join the Navy. This only served to further tear down what little self esteem I already had.
As I entered adulthood that defeated, "probably won't amount to much more than this" attitude nipped at my heels. Nipped at my heals? Oh hell no, I hugged it like a baby, carried it around like a security blanket. It was all I knew. It was me. If I had let it go I would have been faced with another identity crisis! God forbid I let it go and reach higher - that would mean more failure and we simply cannot have that! So, for the next 18 years, after graduation, I did just that. Don't get me wrong, I had some fantastic personal accomplishments, but that chubby redheaded kid never was far behind, wishing he was better off, richer, better looking, and most certainly thinner. Runner? Laughable, even.
In 2005 I was a 911 dispatcher, paramedic, and fire fighter. Sound heroic? I won't take away from the service to the community but I was burying myself in work. 264 lbs of hero if you so choose. At smidgen over half way between 5 and 6 ft 264 lbs is not pretty - especially since it was more blubber than muscle, like 75-25 ratio. My favorite off duty past time was staying up late watching TV eating sandwiches, yes, that really was pretty much my life. I had a family but I was not active outside of work. My fitness and health simply continued the life long spiral toward an early death.
One day while in duty as a medic we were dispatched to a 38 year old man, not breathing/CPR in progress. 38? Seriously! That was only three years old than myself. When we arrived on scene I was not prepared for what I saw. It was nothing gruesome nor macabre. However, what I saw sent my mind reeling; it still startles me today. The patient, truly at 38 year old man, looked so much like me one of the fire fighters already on scene later mentioned at first he thought it WAS me. We were there, on scene, for nearly 3 hours waiting for the various things that must happen once someone dies. I had a lot of time to think and reflect. The conclusion, I was going to end up like this fellow if I didn't change something. Dead at a touch under 40 years of age, never to hear this children's laughter nor feel his wife's touch. I knew, that day, I had to change or I'd end up like this man.
Over the course of the next several months I managed to loose 19#. Spring 2006 had arrived and that call was still haunting me. No, not true. It was a stark reality I was headed down the same path, to an early death, that was haunting me. Come April. I had periodically gone for walks and on this particular day my son, then 6, and I were walking some trails nearby. At one section of the trail is steep, though not especially long, hill. In his vigor and youth he sprinted to the top. "C'mon dad!" I remember it distinctly. His love of live and enthusiasm carried him to the top without breaking a sweat and wasn't about to let his dad hold him back! So, I huffed it up the hill. Half way up I was sweating, out of breath, and my heart was pounding in my chest. No, I wasn't close to having a coronary; but, it did make it even more obvious to me that changes needed to happen and needed to happen ASAP.
Over the next six weeks I walked each day at least 6 times a week. I had no fancy gear - usually a pair of everyday denim shorts, a cotton tshirt (even sometimes a polo - I was just walking after all), and an pair of regular sneakers. I was out there, doing it and nothing was going to stop me. I had turned that corner, flipped that switch, whatever you want to call it. I had moved beyond that horizon of knowing what I wanted to do but having not yet made the commitment to start. That first week I walked I likely never completed a full mile any given day. I was just out there, getting my body used to moving again. I felt it, too. Who'd thought just walking would make you feel stiff and mildly sore. However, that certainly is a testament to how out of shape I truly was.
I never set out to be a runner. Truly. However, as the weeks passed my walking became faster, my breathing and pulse slower, and I was feeling good. I was doing it! Exercising! The thought occurred to me, maybe I should try jogging? At first I laughed it off. I hadn't run since high school and I was still quite heavy. The thought wouldn't go away; it persisted. Starting at week 4 of my new experience, and until week 6, I went back and forth. Finally, at the end of a mile, mile and a half walk, I made the decision, "Tomorrow I run."
The day arrived and my goal was simply to run 5 minutes and walk the rest. By this point I was pretty excited at the thought of trying it. Running? Could it be possible? My spirits were high and I was going for it. I pulled the truck into the parking lot at the trail head I'd become very familiar with over the last month and a half. I wasn't dressed like a runner - still denim shorts, cotton shirt, cotton socks, and the same sneakers. I stepped out of the truck, walked the 20 yards to the trail, and took off running! Truly, the experience was spiritual. The sound of the wind rushing past my ears, the feeling of my body moving at a speed it hadn't realized, under its own power, in decades. It was the most amazing sensation I'd experienced in decades.
5 minutes proved impossible that day. At 2 minutes I was breathing rather hard. By 2 and a half minutes my pulse was slamming in my chest and neck. By 3 minutes it was clear I would be physically unable to maintain that pace and I slowed to a walk. Exhausted, yes, but beaming. I'd done it. I had actually ran! I was a bit disappointed I didn't make the goal but that was so far in the back of my mind compared to the accomplishment of moving faster than the speed of sloth! I was freakin' PUMPED!
I finished up the rest of the workout as a fast walk. I was still aglow when I made it back to my truck. Motivation, yes, I was suddenly the poster child for motivation. I quickly learned to walk for about 5 minutes before taking off running. It took about two weeks for me to find a pace that I could maintain for any length of time. Within a week I made my goal of 5 minutes. I walked the rest of the route. Slowly 5 minutes worked into 10 minutes, 10 into 15. ETC. I was doing it. The weight started coming down even faster. The sneakers? They fell apart.
What a feeling. Truly, what a feeling. I was evolving out of the old, defeated, self into something new. Someone whom was relearning self worth, the benefits of investing in oneself. If this is being selfish, it is the best form of selfishness anyone can embrace. I have no doubts more people need to learn to love and appreciate themselves, just as I did.
That isn't the end of the story, but its a story that will only cease to be written when I take my last breath. Frankly, I'm in no hurry to find the end. Matter of fact, I'd just as soon make it epic. There are still struggles interspersed amongst the highlights. However, I am far more equipped to handle the everyday challenges and even the life changing events.
Why do I run? To keep writing, rewriting, and reshaping. I promise you, come along on this journey, and you'll understand completely what I mean.
For reference - I mention struggles? Me on the left was June 2012 at around 240 lbs. I'd mentioned weight control has always been an issue. The picture of my on the right, 194 lbs, April, 2013. I still have some work to do but I'm on my way.
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