iRun

This time of year marks an anniversary of sorts for me. It was about two years ago that I became a runner. It was not so much out of a yearning desire to push my body to the point that everything hurts but more a matter of not wanting to have to shop at Northern Reflections.

My progression towards XL Nate was slow and gradual as most can attest to. The weight gain creeps up on you. Sure their were spurts of consistency at the gym, but they were too often offset by greater periods of consistency on the couch. Couple that with a lack of proper rehab from surgeries to both my elbow and shoulder and the number on the scale read more like my career batting average (also bad). It was the fall of 2008 that I had booked surgery #3 for my shoulder and knew that if things progressed I was soon going to be making calls to Prince Fielder's tailor. Something had to be done.

 With surgery I've come to learn, it's not so much the procedure itself, but your dedication to the rehabilitation afterwards that dictates the effectiveness of it. I knew there would be months afterward where physical activity would be reduced to a minimum while I healed. In order to prep for this, my plan of attack became getting myself in the best shape possible whereby I could afford to eat bonbons on the couch. I had roughly 8 months to do it in. So, I signed up for the Mississauga Half Marathon. Daunting? Yes. Impossible for me in my then present shape? Somewhat.

At first it was a goal I kept to myself. However, being a reasonably self-aware person I knew that if it remained a private thing I'd return back down the mountain I'd set out to climb. So, I started telling friends and family, one by one. Accountability. It was then that this goal became that much more tangible. It's much easier to let yourself down than it is those around you.

Eight months later race day had finally come. The hours in the gym, kilometres on the road, and forgoing of Baconators had paid off. I had lost 40lbs in the process. I was ready, yet nervous. I don't remember sleeping much the night before. Maybe 2 hours at the most. If memory serves, it was around the 14km mark that the running became more mental than it did physical. Physical preparation is one thing. Mental prep is a whole different ball of wax. Without ever having done a race of this length before I didn't know how to mentally prepare for it beyond saying "I think I can, I think  can, I think can." My legs started to feel heavy and I could feel some of my toes going numb. I was buoyed by reminding myself that with each plodding step the distance I had run grew greater while the distance I had yet to go shrank. And roughly 2 hours later it was all over. I crossed the finish line in almost exactly the time I figured I would. I was happy.

  To think of myself as a runner is still weird. Being asked for advice about it even more weird. I come from a baseball backround. Baseball players run in 90 ft bursts. I try to help out others where I can with the disclaimer that I am by no means fleet afoot. In fact, there are very few things in this life that I do at a high rate of speed. Nonetheless, running will always be a part of who I am now. Certainly not to the degree that baseball is, but still a part.