In the early 2000s, I started running as a way to stay fit. It started by being invited (or more accurately, coerced) to run the 5k "Trick or Treat Trot" in Chicago with my wife. It was 6:30 am on a late-October Sunday morning along the shores of Lake Michigan.
It was cold, breezy, and just straight-up not pleasant outside. But everybody there was wearing a colorful costume and beaming with a full-faced grin.
What is wrong with these people? Shouldn't we all still be inside sleeping?
The energy of the recreational athletes surrounding us was infectious. I finished my first 5k, around all these 'crazy' people, and just like that, I decided to run a marathon.
How hard could it be? If somebody else can do it, why can’t I?
I’ve run over 30 marathons since then: not at record-breaking speed, but I finished them all. One year, I thought I’d train for speed - to try to qualify for Boston.
Now you have to understand, I’m not a small guy. I’m not built like a competitive marathon runner. The speed training didn’t work - I battled through injuries and could never quite get fast enough.
If I can’t run faster, maybe I’ll just run farther.
So I worked my way up to doing 50k trail runs, and then even a few 50-mile races. Every single time I finished, I found myself eagerly awaiting the next one.
The logical progression was a 100 miler, so I found the flattest one I could, and entered.
It took me 28 hours, and let me tell you, when I finished those 100 miles, I was NOT excited for the next one.