The Accidental Runner

I hate running.

At least, I used to. And I never wanted to like it, except one day I realized I’d become what I’d hated. Maybe I should explain.

The older you get, the more your own mortality starts to sink in. When you’re in your 20’s, you’re fucking invincible. You eat whatever you want, don’t really exercise, and you still look and feel great. When you hit your 30’s, however, all that changes. You start to gain weight in places you hadn’t before, so you try to eat a bit better. But then you realize that weight isn’t going away, and you’re going to have to exercise to get rid of it.

It’s also around that time that the fear of being 80 or 90 and hunched over, or in a wheelchair because I didn’t use my muscles enough started to creep into my subconscious. Usually around 2am when I was trying to sleep after ingesting 5 or 6 tacos.

In June of 2014, after returning from a road trip to Oregon, I realized I weighed more than I ever have in my life, which was 225. Granted, I’m 6’3”, so I wasn’t rotund, but my waist was definitely growing. In my head, I figured another year or two of this and I’d just have to assume my penis was down there hiding on the other side of Stomach Mountain, like a climber looking to scale Mount Everest.

I’d been using My Fitness Pal to track calories for years. The app, assuming I was a sloth because I sit in a chair 14 hours a day composing music, told me how much I could eat and still lose weight. I’d managed to stay under my calorie goal and GAINED weight. So I switched apps to MyPlate, and decided I was going to eat 1000 less calories a day than it told me, which was 2200.

I immediately started losing weight, mostly because I was only eating 1200 calories a day, but I managed to spread them out so that I wasn’t hungry at the end of the day. But then there were days that I really wanted something fatty, like a bean and cheese burrito from Lucy’s Drive In. Lucy’s was 1.5 miles away, so I deduced that I could eat said burrito if I walked there and back, which was close to the amount of calories I’d ingest. It was then I realized to key to eating more food — walking. I started walking every day, still managing to stay 1000 calories under my goal with few exceptions.

I’m not a dieter. I’m never going to do Paleo, or gluten-free, or that horrible Master Cleanse (I want punch the guy who invented that in the face). I don’t have a sweet tooth either, I’m not a fan of desserts. My problem has always been portion control. So the key to me eating better was eating smaller meals. By default, cutting my calories meant I wasn’t eating deep-fried food and more greens, but what worked for me was just eating less of what I was already eating.

Now, I’ve always hated running. In the past, my wife would coerce me to the track in an attempt to run. I’d bitch about it while getting dressed, complain on Twitter on the way there, then the second it was over I’d rejoice in the fact that I was done until the next time. But one day, while walking, I thought hey, if I jog a little bit during the walk, I can burn more calories. I’ll just jog until I get tired and then walk again. And this weird thing happened. I didn’t complain about it. It didn’t kill me. And it actually felt pretty good, once I’d taken the pressure off myself. The next day, I told myself I was going to walk with no intention of running, but then a mile in I’d decide I felt like running a little bit. And without realizing it, it started happening every day.

By December, I’d lost 25 lbs. So, if I was going to slack off, that would have been the time. I’d done what I set out to do, I could go back to being a sloth and eating poorly. But instead, I set a new goal.

I’d been using Runkeeper to track my walks, and realized that they had programs to help me run more regularly (I mean, it’s not called WALKkeeper). Then I decided I needed proper shoes, which led to new clothes, and an armband for my iPhone so I didn’t have to keep it in my pocket. And then it hit me — I realized I’d become the thing I’d hated — a runner. Except that I didn’t hate it anymore. I wanted to, but I actually enjoyed it.

I’m not a gym person. I used to be, but I’d rather work out at home. I don’t do social workouts — I don’t want to workout with a group of people, which is why you’ll never, ever find me at a Crossfit class. It’s just me and my earbuds — I’m motivated by myself & music. I work out for me, and if I want it bad enough, I’ll make it happen. So I’m convinced that I had to hit that low in June 2014 where I had to decide for myself whether to be overweight and out of shape or fix it. And generally the big moments in my life are a result of hitting a crossroads like that and choosing what’s best for me.

And now, in 2015, I’m training for my first race — The Avengers Half Marathon in November. Not to win it — I’m not THAT competitive — but just to finish it.

I’ve now divided my life into Old Rob and New Rob — pre running and post. If you told Old Rob he’d be training for a race, he’d laugh and stuff another taco in his mouth. New Rob still stuffs tacos in his mouth, but while he’s doing it he’s calculating how much more he’s going to have to run to burn off the calories.