(I’ve had a few reflections on running bouncing around in my mind. I’ve decided to put them down on paper. You’ll see more.)

I’m a runner and a son of a runner. I grew up hearing my dad talk much about running without ever seeing him lace up shoes. As a career military man, he put in PT before the sun came up. He logged 10 miles before I ever lifted an eyelid.

I heard the stories. I saw the shorts and shoes.

I remember the time my older brother, Chris, attempted to run with dad. The run ended with my brother saying “Dad, go ahead. I’m going to throw up.” Chris never lived it down. 

All the stories of running turned runners into mythical giants in my mind. Runners woke up early and did hard things. They intimidated others with physical conditioning and short shorts. 

Running moved from myth to reality when I was in the eighth grade. A middle school coach took interest in me. After remarking on my toughness, he said, “You should join the wrestling team. I think you’d be good at it.” I was desperate for attention and jumped on the affirmation. I soon tried on my first pair of wrestling shoes. Those wrestling shoes were quickly followed by a pair of running shoes. Turns out, wrestlers run. And run. And run.

Many people ask me, “Why do you run?” I jokingly respond, “I run from failure.” Yet, I first began running to make a specific weight class. As a wrestler, the first match of every week was with the scale. The only way to win was to lace up shoes and pound the pavement. I developed a love for wrestling and a passion for running.

Once I retired my wrestling shoes after high school, I continued to purchase running shoes. I first loved ASICS. Now I only wear a Nike 12.5. I order them online, usually buying last year’s model on clearance in whatever color is available. It is always fun to put on a new pair, but I find great delight in throwing a pair in the trash after 400 miles.