Where I am Now

The thought that running can be a positive thing is new to me. Throughout my life running has been more likely to conjure thoughts of torture, pain, and masochism (see dictionary.com's 3rd definition, not 1st! lol) than excitement, joy, and satisfaction. I'm the type of person, as are a lot of people, that gets excited about getting in shape, goes to the gym, works harder than I thought I could, then never goes back because I overdid it. So, naturally, the thought of running would also have similar negative connotations. So when I decided that I would run the Long Beach marathon the first thing I decided to do was to discredit my lifelong thoughts and ideas and replace them with reality and positivity. Research ensued.

I reached out to somebody who's running experience I trusted and who had overcome many of the same issues I am currently dealing with, my dad. The first piece of good advice he gave me was to get a John Galloway book called Galloway on Running. The part that I honed in on was the short section on "Getting Started."

The gist of this section was, in my words, "Get started. Walk slow, then walk fast. Add a little running, then add a little more. Just get started." Right now I am in the "add a little running" phase. I walk for four minutes, then run for two. I have even made a playlist on my phone of 6 four minute songs with Requiem for a Tower by Escala in between (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxTV4y9tD6s). I dare you to listen to that song and tell me you aren't amped up and ready to run! I read about running, I talk to friends and family about it, I set goals, I eat healthy, I started this blog, and more, all as a source of motivation. Not only that, but I know very well that there will be hurdles and times I want to quit, so I figure the more sources of motivation I have now the more nets I have to catch me when I fall. Encouragement and advice from those running behind me, beside me, or well out in front of me has been the greatest motivation surge I have received so far.

Already in my short journey I have dealt with, or at least started to deal with, a couple hurdles. The first was cutting my runs short because of shin splints. The second was purely not wanting to run. Not to mention of course, the fact that I have a ruptured ACL, which does still hurt. I start physical therapy on it tomorrow though, so I'm pumped about that!

As of right now I'm excited because thus far I have been going out alone, but tonight I'll be joining a couple friends. I just hope this is a trend in the making. The idea of going this alone seems like it would be as fruitless as desert sands during periods of endless drought.

Next week, or whenever my body says it's ok, I'll start walking for four minutes and running for three.

Peering out into the distance

I stand facing a windy road that is massaging obscured hills hiding the first light of a new day. The dew is my hydration and the wind is my breath. And with childlike innocence I put one foot in front of the other, and smile.



Just over a month ago I was a defeated man. I had just gotten home from the hospital after receiving news that my little knee injury was actually a major knee injury, and that it would most likely require surgery.

Oddly, the reason behind my defeat was not so much in the injury, the surgery, or even in being uninsured. My defeat was in realizing that not only was the invincibility of my youth gone, but it had been gone for so long that when I looked to lean on it I couldn't even remember what it looked like. The abuse I suffered myself through a gluttonous and sedentary life had caused my prime years to scurry away before they even got here.

So I prayed. I prayed that God would use this opportunity to open my eyes to the importance of preserving my body through healthy living. I prayed that God would embrace me warmly and shove me out the door abruptly. I prayed for healing. I prayed for understanding.

My next trip to the doctor gave me more good news. Not only am I missing an ACL, but my blood pressure is just below hypertension. So not only did my lifestyle choices help cause a serious injury and make the healing process complicated, but now I find out that I've been killing myself. My head and my heart started arguing at this point. It was as if my head knew what my heart didn't want to hear. The mantra for the rest of the doctors visit (all 6 more hours of it) became "You're killing yourself. You're killing yourself." It wasn't until I got news that physical therapy was going to be the recommended treatment and that I have a green light to be active that my heart finally leaped in excitement at the prospect of survival.

God smiled warmly upon me, then kicked me out of the storm into a beautiful horizon. It is what is beyond the horizon that this blog will be about...