I don’t identify as a runner, but I’ve done plenty of it in my day. Statistically speaking, I’ve run more distance in one year than 99% of the total population will in their lifetime.
In 2023, I set a new personal record: more than 1,410 miles in one year. Those last 10 miles made the difference.
Science tells us that running is good for us. It also tells us that it increases the likelihood that our bodies will store fat because clearly we’re running from something.
A phrase from the biblical Proverbs comes to mind:
The wicked run away when no one is chasing them. — Proverbs 28:1
The real missed opportunity here is that it wasn’t Proverbs 26:2 (IFKYK). Pheidippides should have been born 300 years earlier.
Here’s the thing about running. When you run a lot, your body screams for calories. For the most part, the kinds of calories aren’t even that important. I mean, they are important, but also not. Long-distance runners are like calorie-burning factories. It’s probably obvious, but I’ll say it anyway, that there are different types of calories. A salad with a lot of protein sits very different on a 20-mile run than a bowl of ice cream with a lot of toppings.
After my personal record-setting year, I stopped running.
I gained 40 pounds.
Why?
Because I continued eating how I did when I was running up to 60 miles per week.
I added a lot of stress to my life as well; leaving a job I’ve been at for years and starting two companies.
Just under a week ago, my youngest child asked me, “Dad, when are you going to start running again?”
“Tomorrow,” I replied.
“Okay, and if you don’t run tomorrow, what’s the consequence? Will you add one mile to the next day’s run?”
“Sure.”
I didn’t really mean it, but then the next day I got a Discord message from him while I was at work.
“Did you run today?”
“No.”
“So, you’re going to run 6 miles tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I replied again, not really meaning it this time either.
The next day, he asked me again. I still hadn’t run, and I knew he wasn’t going to let it go.
So, I woke up the next morning and ran 8 miles. It took me as long as 13 miles used to take me, but I did it.
One day running doth not a runner make.
Or does it?
I was stuck, feeling stressed and over-eating every day.
Then, something changed. My son’s gentle, innocent reminders spurred something inside me.
This week, I have a goal to run at least 15 miles. It’s a far cry from where I was just over a year ago, but it’s a start in the right direction again. I don’t think I have a need to get back to running 40+ miles every week, but I do have a need to respect my body and shed the unwanted pounds.
We’re all faced with crossroad moments in our lives where we can choose to stay where we are or choose to change. Humans are creatures that crave change, no matter how small. Most people switch up what they wear on a daily basis for variety, we eat different foods, we go to places we’ve never been before, we say hello to people we’ve never met before. All of those things signal a desire to be a little different than we were before.
While daily, one percent improvement is impossible in any given thing over a lifetime, there are so many things we do in life where we can make tiny, almost imperceptible improvements.
We all know people who choose the path of no resistance and will Netflix themselves to death, fading into irrelevance because it’s harder than challenging yourself to be better.
The question I’ve been asking myself, even before my son declared himself my personal accountability partner, is whether I’m willing to be more than I am.
My decision to return to running is a life-altering decision, but I won’t see results overnight and certainly not all at once. Tomorrow, after I run, I might be lucky enough to be one pound lighter due to water loss on the run. If I’m a bit more careful about the calories I consume, it’ll be a tiny step forward; a choice that nudges me away from resignation to who I was.
For you, it might not be running. Maybe it’s finally fixing your diet, or calling a friend you’ve been meaning to check in on. Maybe it’s choosing to put your phone down for just five minutes and do something little that moves you in a direction you won’t regret.
The alternative? The slow fade into sameness, disappearing into a version of yourself that just never quite got around to changing.
What will you choose?
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