So it was March of 2008, I was a sophomore in college, I weighed 290 lbs., my blood pressure was through the roof, and I was having heart palpitations. I needed to do something and fast. I was tired of feeling like crap and decided I needed to start adding some physical activity back into my life. I started to think of different ways I could get back into shape.
The campus rec center was one of the first things that crossed my mind. It had free weights, circuit machines, basketball courts, a running track, treadmills, ellipticals, and even a rock climbing wall. All of those amenities seemed great but the rec center had one other thing that I wasn't too fond of, people. I guess I should clarify, I do not dislike people in general, I just dislike most of them when they are in a rec center. There are pretty much three main types of people in a college rec center: girls who come mostly to socialize, meat-heads, and intramural sports players.
The intramural sports players didn't bug me much. They were mostly on the basketball courts or the indoor soccer field. The meat-heads were just plain annoying. They took up all of the free weights, wore sleeveless shirts with arm holes were so big their sides were completely exposed,and engaged in nonstop conversations about supplements. The girls were not that annoying, they just made me more self-conscious than anything. I am a loud breather when I run or workout so I always felt like girls next to me were judging me. I could hear the thoughts in their heads: "Man look at this fat guy next to me. Can you believe how loud he is breathing? I think he might have a heart attack."
The rec center just didn't seem like the place for me. After considering a few more options running became to obvious choice to help get me back into shape. It was something I could do without many distractions or people getting in my way. I didn't have to get in my car and drive anywhere to do it. Most importantly it was cheap. it did not require a monthly membership or special equipment. All I needed were a shirt, pair of shorts, socks, and a pair of running shoes. Some running minimalists may tell you I didn't even need the socks or shoes but I am a bigger guy and feel the cushioning of the shoes definitely helps me.
I also happened to live in a really great spot for running. Not for super long distances, but perfect to start getting back into shape. Right across the street from my apartment there was a 3.5 mile paved running path. It circled a public golf course and park. The path also ran right in front of a major hospital which I felt was a good thing considering how out of shape I was. If I passed out I would have medical care almost instantly.
I decided to start out with a two mile run. I felt a little guilty because of my Marine Corps roots. The minimum you run in the Marines is three miles because that is the length of the run on the Marine Corps physical fitness test. However I had to be realistic, there was no way I was making it three miles. So I suited up and headed out for my first run in almost two years. As I had expected it did not go well.
I started off a lot faster than I probably should have. I felt good for about the first quarter to half a mile. Then I began to feel it. Two years of almost no physical activity was coming down on me hard. My lungs began to burn. The muscles in my legs began to tighten. My lower back started cramping from all of the extra weight I was carrying. My breathing became rapid and my heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest. I slowed to a walk before I even hit the one mile mark.
I didn't walk very long before my brain entered the fight. My determined old self, the wrestler, the Marine, started yelling at me. "C'mon man you have to be kidding me. You are walking on a two mile run. You used to be able to run two miles in under 13 minutes. You hiked 17.5 miles at a 3.5 mph pace with full combat gear, a pack, and machine gun." I had to agree with myself that waling was ridiculous. I started up again and pushed it for another three quarters of a mile. I had half of a mile left and I was walking again.
I have always sprinted the last tenth to quarter mile of my runs. So a lot of times I happen to walk for a few seconds within a half mile of the finish to catch my breath so I can sprint hard. This was not the case on this run. I was tired and in pain and just wanted to walk the rest of the way, but after about a minute I realized I had hardly any distance to go and started running again. My "end of run sprint" lasted less than a tenth of a mile, but I was happy I sprinted any distance at all.
Most people probably would tell you that you can't get a runner's high on a two mile run, but I would disagree. Once I caught my breath I felt fantastic, mentally that is. I was back. I knew that if I could push myself through that two miles once at 290 lbs. I could do it again. I knew from there it would only get easier. I still had a lot of ups and downs to go from that point until the present, but I was happy to be back out there on my feet pounding the pavement again.
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