When I found myself officially by myself in 2006, I knew that I needed to change my life. I had for so long let things happen to me while waiting for life to improve. I gave everything of myself never did anything for myself. And I made excuses for why I didn't do anything, and as a result got more and more unhealthy. I was living in the house my first wife and I had at the time in Broomfield, Colorado. It was next to thousands of acres of Boulder County open space into which I rarely ventured in the seven years we lived in the house.
At six feet tall, I had no business carrying around 232 pounds. Something had to change. I remember the first day I laced up the best shoes I had at the time and took off out the door to run. Within thirty seconds, I was wheezing - my heart pounding. Withing two minutes, I had slowed to walk, my lungs on fire. That's how it went on and off for about twenty minutes, during which I maybe went a mile and a half. The next day I was in pain. My knees and hips hurt, and I still felt the burn in my chest. I continued this a couple times a week, and tried a visit to the 24 Hour Fitness of which I had been a member since 2000 but rarely ever visited.
The process of the divorce began in March of 2006, and by then the stress of the situation and my occasional gut-wrenching exercise sessions had begun to shave weight off my body. I was losing some weight but not really in the right way, as my diet was still poor (when I ate), and the bulk of the weight loss was from the stress and not the exercise. Still, it was progress I could see and that was encouraging. As fall gave way to winter, I ran less and the weight loss stopped.
My transition to being a runner was really as a result of a series of events that occurred in 2007. I met someone that reintroduced my to eating well and exercising. Her name was Amy, and although the relationship ultimately did not work out, she made an imprint on my life that changed me forever. With her, I played organized soccer, climbed mountains, hiked, almost learned to surf, and ran. When we broke up, I kept on with the running and the weight started to come off again. It was a difficult time, but I found that running gave me a purpose and an outlet for all of the frustration and occasional anger.
My dad - a recreational runner since as long as I could remember - encouraged me, and in late summer of 2007 suggested I come to Phoenix in the fall for the Phoenix New Times 10-k on Veterans Day. Before I could talk myself out of it, I said yes.
And now I had my first goal.
I did not keep a runners log. I only guesstimated how far I was running when I went out two to three times a week. I timed my runs so at least I had some idea how long I could go, but I noticed that I was able to cover the regular routes I ran in less time.
In November, I traveled to Phoenix and got ready to run my first race since a non-scored relay for shotputters and discus throwers at a home high school track meet. I had no idea what to expect. Dad and I made the trip to Tempe, where the race was being held. He was signed up for the 5k and I for the 10k. After the first mile, I picked up my pace and began to run hard...too hard, but I wasn't smart enough to know any better...and I was running angry. As I came to the last corner before Mill Street, I saw my dad and heard him hollering. I lengthed my strides and started pumping my arms and sprinted to the finish for a time of 45:31 - a 10k time I have yet to beat.
I was hooked...
