14 Weeks to Go - "The Starting Line(s)"

By: Adam Chizen

The starting line on race morning. As a runner, it's an emotional place to be. Anxiety, cold, excitement, fear, that annoying pain in your knee that just hasn't faded but it's totally fine, cold, hunger, the need to use the porta-potty just one more time, and about 75 other feelings and emotions fight for ground in your head. Oh, and it's typically cold. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. And cold.

The truth is, you don't cross your starting line on race day. I mean, you should definitely run through the arch with the clock next to it if you want your time recorded, but metaphorically speaking; you cross your real starting lines weeks, months, and in many cases, years earlier. In my case, I crossed my starting line in late 2017.

Exercise had never been a priority for me. As a child and teen I was known for being skinny - on my 21st birthday I was about 170 lbs., which was pretty damn skinny on my 6'2" frame. I'd played sports as a kid, but was fairly awkward in my body and, while I was decent at baseball, I just didn't have the build to keep up at other kids got stronger. Fast forward a decade and I'm not really sure what happened, but for some reason after I turned 21 I started gaining a belly. At the core was a host of under-understood mental health issues, which took as much of a toll on the outside as on the inside.

Years passed, and the combination of an increasingly sedentary lifestyle, far too many IPAs, and a diet that would make the Supersize Me guy cringe predictably led to there being a lot more of me than there had been. Living in the Pacific Northwest and growing up in New England, I'd have said I enjoyed hiking. But anything more than about a mile (and, god forbid, an incline,) would leave me in pretty rough shape. Just ask my one poor friend who likely contemplated pushing me off Mt. Monadnock in NH when he eventually dragged me to its peak. Even when I made the rare attempt to either eat better OR work out (never at the same time, of course,) I'd quickly lose motivation when results weren't immediately apparent. Getting to a point where I felt I was "in shape," which wasn't even really something I could visualize, let alone define, felt unattainable and therefore not worth working at. Besides, that beer, burger, and three more beers were calling my name, and I couldn't be rude and ignore them! It's called having manners.

Then, I found out I was going to be a father.

I knew I wasn't in a condition to be able to keep up with a kid that could, like, walk and stuff. And once he could run... I'd be in trouble. It didn't seem fair to me that this poor kid was going to have a dad that was young enough and physically capable of at least attempting to keep up with him but didn't, simply by choice. His mother had a litany of physical health issues that made it more difficult for her; plus she was kind of busy, you know, gestating said child.

I knew I needed to do something, but I also knew that gym routines hadn't worked for me. I didn't enjoy lifting weights, which was what "going to the gym" meant to me, and didn't get me the result I wanted anyway (because overdoing arm workouts three times and being too sore to do another for a week and losing all motivation for a month doesn't lead to weight loss*). I remembered something I'd seen on Facebook; a friend from my college internship had posted something about him running. A really good guy, he'd become a dad somewhat recently and, after scrolling through his social media feeds, evidently had indeed started running. What the Hell, I figured, I have an old pair of shoes and some shorts. If Ben could do it, why couldn't I? Ok, maybe I wouldn't get as "carried away" as he did; I mean, running a 5K? Why would you do that? How far is 5K anyway? THREE miles?! For fun? Cool, he's lost his mind. (This is by no means meant as a slight on Ben - still just as great a guy who consistently runs races longer I run in like... a month.)

My first run, unfortunately I don't have the tracking data from my watch for anymore, but I know I walked a lot more than I ran, and had a hard time doing so. I'm pretty sure I did about a half mile, which I would have considered an insurmountable feat as little as a week earlier. (In my defense, my neighborhood was riddled with hills, and the neighboring community was called Rolling Hills, so hardly an improvement.) I was hot, I couldn't breathe, my feet, legs, and back hurt, and more than one person in my life laughed at the idea. To their credit, I laughed too. But then something weird happened...

I ran again. And again. After a bit I could do that same half mile while only walking once or twice... then not at all. Then I could go more like a mile. Suddenly the people that laughed saw a change in me. I'd crossed a major personal starting line and hadn't even known it. I crossed my first formal starting line at the Refuse To Abuse 5K in 2019, a race that goes through the Mariner's T-Mobile Park in Seattle.

All of this is to say, starting lines are immensely more than just where and when your race clock starts. They can be someone that makes you want to be the best version of you. They can be making that decision to improve your life; mentally, physically, or emotionally. They can be the first time you tie your shoes and go for a run.

Or they can be when you start training for a specific race. Which, conveniently, is where I find myself now. I've run over 1,000 miles since then, races of 5, 10, 12, and 21KM, commonly known as a half marathon. (For those of us raised using Freedom Units, those are 3.1, 6.2, 7.4, and 13.1 miles.) But I haven't run a full marathon.. yet. That starting line has been crossed.

This blog will be my sounding board as I train to run my first 26.2 mile race on December 1st, 14 weeks of training from now. I hope you'll join me as I highlight the ups, downs, ins, and outs of training for a marathon as a not particularly fast, not particularly special runner.

In addition to this blog, keep an eye out for an upcoming podcast with my running buddy and very long time best friend David Adams. As you know, there is clearly a dearth of bearded men in their 30's having podcasts to discuss their hobbies, so we've decided to help fill that void.

Now it's just about time for me to go for a run. I hope you join me.

Cheers!

*I have no medical training - for legal reasons, maybe this can lead to weight loss. Don't sue me.