A Brave New World

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Blah, blah, blah.

So here’s my running cred.

Just before the birth of our second child I began running.  At first to control my weight. Then I allowed myself to be goaded into the Sycamore Pumpkinfest 10K. I beat the guy that double-dog-dared me.  I’ll never forget the look on his face as I cruised by him just before mile 5. “Hi, Rocky!”  I said.  I didn’t understand the implications of his excuse-making the next week at work. “I’m just a little older than you.”  and “I didn’t execute my strategy correctly.” I had just gone out and ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. It was the first time I had ever beaten any one at any athletic endeavor in my life.  I was hooked.

I mean, I didn’t win the 10K, I just beat the guy I knew.  A few years later another fellow runner at work challenged me to my first 5K.  I beat him, too.  Since I don’t remember my 100 yd. dash times from grade school, I can’t say I NEVER ran that fast, but it was the hardest I remember ever pushing myself. I ran 7:20 that day, a personal best I have yet to beat.

In the next 10 years I ran 2-3 10Ks per year, but running was always just a lifestyle thing, not a competition thing. Usually about 2 miles per day, but I ramped it up if I was expecting to run in a race.

I moved on from 10Ks to a few 1/2 marathons and 30Ks, and then my first Chicago marathon in 2003 at the ripe old age of 44.  Then the Triathlon bug bit.

 

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