The sun was lowering into the sky on a mid-July evening in 2008 as I carried my last box of crap from my car into my dad's house and up to my bedroom on the second floor. Earlier that day, my dad had driven from my hometown of Beverly Hills, Michigan (which we often jokingly referred to as "The Real Beverly Hills, and our county of Oakland as "The Real O.C.") out to Kalamazoo to help me move my furniture out of my college house to transport back home. I had finished the last day of my undergrad college career two days earlier, and in the early afternoon, we arrived at my childhood home with two carloads full of four years worth of my junk. As I unpacked the last of my belongings and got reacquainted with my old bedroom, I reflected on the last several months. My senior year of college had been the most fun out of all four years, hands down. It was eventful and exciting, however by the time I left Western, I was taking full time summer classes, working twenty-five to thirty hours per week, and trying to enjoy the ninth inning of my college social life. I was exhausted from juggling everything, and was ready for a more slow paced, quiet lifestyle away from the my rambunctious college town.
As I drifted through the next several weeks, I gradually got used to how different life was in my quiet, suburban hometown at my dad's house, versus my rowdy college town. Just a few weeks earlier, I had been living in an old house with four other dudes where everything was broken and there were packed bars and boisterous house parties within walking distance every night of the week. I soon landed my first real world job at a law office close to home and settled into a daily ritual of waking up at 7:00 AM, eating breakfast, taking a shower, going to work for nine hours, coming home, having dinner, watching TV, then going to bed. I was enjoying this new phase of my life. After four years of partying my ass off, it was the break that I had been seeking as I grew exhausted from the college lifestyle during the final weeks of my senior year. Life was more simple and it was comfortable. That didn't last very long. Even though this new lifestyle was comfortable, something was missing. Perhaps it was too comfortable. Allow me to drift away for a moment to put things into perspective. Let me start by saying this; I love my hometown. It was a great place to grow up. It was a nice, safe neighborhood with great restaurants and stores. We spent a lot of time outdoors year round, and my parents always kept life interesting for my sister and I. Despite all of this, Beverly Hills, in my opinion, is a pretty mundane place. It's a Midwestern suburban village twenty minutes outside of Detroit. Most adults who live there either grew up there or hail from within a twenty mile radius of the village. They wake up, go to work, come home, relax, and go to bed Monday through Friday, and spend their weekends sitting in front of the TV eating junk food. As I went about my daily life, I observed as my co-workers (who were older than me, but still pretty young), people I had known from school, and other people around me exhibited this very lifestyle. I cringed as I began to see myself being pulled into the same pattern. I was getting into a rut and I didn't like it. I don't remember the exact date or time that I became fully aware of what was happening to me, but at some point I paused and said "Okay dude, reality check. Is this how I'm going to spend the rest of my life? Is this all there is? Is it my destiny to just "Homer Simpson" my way through the rest of my days on this planet?" Another trait I noticed among the people around me who were practicing this lifestyle was none of them really seemed happy. They didn't have much zest for life and it seemed like they were simply okay with the way things were. They weren't happy, just satisfied. I could sense it in their demeanors. That was the way I was beginning to feel too.
When I write a book someday, there will be more detailed mumbo jumbo on this, but in short, I decided the answers to the questions above were as follows: Is this how I'm going to spend the rest of my life? No, not a friggin' chance. Is this all there is? Absolutely, not. Is it my destiny to "Homer Simpson" my way through life? No, there was no chance in hell that was going to happen. Once I answered these questions, I instantly felt more focused. I already felt more motivated to make my life more fun and interesting. Now, I was onto a new task; I needed to find something to look forward to on a daily basis. My boring Monday through Friday routine simply would not cut it anymore and I needed to make every day more exciting. So, I decided to go for daily walks. Every day after work I would come home, change out of my work clothes, grab my iPod, and go for an hour-long walk outside around my dad's neighborhood. I loved it. It was a great way for me to have some alone time, listen to some music, clear my head, and get some exercise. As the weeks went on, my life was becoming more vibrant. Simply adding this hour-long daily walk to my routine was a game changer. The anticipation built up as I drove home from work and once I arrived, I wasted no time changing out of my work clothes, putting on my tennis shoes, and heading back out the door. As the fall began to transition into winter, I shifted from walking outside to walking on the treadmill at the YMCA in my neighborhood. Now I could track how far of a distance I was walking during that hour and how many calories I was burning. I didn't think much of it at first, but after a while I found myself trying to walk faster and squeeze more distance into the hour of walking. I also realized that I was slowly losing weight. When I began walking, I was six feet tall, 188 pounds. After a few months of I had dropped to 177 pounds. Then I realized I was onto something; the walking was not only helping me become more mentally stable, it was helping me become more physically stable also. I felt lighter, heathier, and my mind felt more clear than it ever had before.
By January of 2009, I was being more mindful of what I ate, and I continued to slim down. At one point I decided that I wanted to start covering more distance on the treadmill during my hour long walks at the YMCA, so I thought "why not try running a little?". The first couple of times were tough, but when I saw that I was covering more and more distance in that hour, my running increased, and before long, my hour-long walks became hour-long slow runs with some walking breaks. The more distance I covered during that hour, the better I felt. Along with this, my mood improved, and I was becoming a more genuinely happy version of myself. It was like a new chapter of my life and things were taking on a new meaning, man! In April of 2009, I entered my first 5K race with Wade, one of my best buds. We've known each other since elementary school and he was a gifted athlete back in high school. We were both at the same level in terms of running ability, so we ran/walked the 5K together, and the following month I entered another local 5K. This time I was alone, so I ran at my own pace, finishing in a little over twenty-six minutes. I was gasping for breath when I crossed the finish line, but I felt great, and surprised that I was able to complete 3.1 miles in that amount of time. People tell me all the time nowadays "oh, a 5K must be nothing for you". Wrong. Running 3.1 miles is still friggin' hard, so anyone who runs even that distance has my kudos and respect. It isn't easy, my body has just learned to be more tolerant of the physical inconvenience over the years. As I stood in the parking lot that day sweaty and out of breath, watching people cross the finish line, I knew a fire had been ignited inside me. I had created a monster. If only I had known where it would take me over the next twelve years.
And that's how I became a runner. I moved to Chicago shortly after that second 5K, two days before my twenty-third birthday. From there, my running took off, and it continued to grow and evolve when I moved to California. I'm still learning, trying new things, and my running is still evolving even today. If someone were to ask me "tell me in one sentence why you got into running", my answer would be "I started running because I wanted to be a rebel". I began running because having a boring, miserable life sucks the big hairy meatball. I've been a rebel all my life, and I wanted to rebel against the mundane lifestyle that I found myself being sucked into by the world around me. I looked at that world and flipped my middle finger. I wanted more. I wanted excitement. I wanted something to look forward to every day that could transform my life. And I'll never get enough of it!
