July in the Midwest is always hot. This reality makes running 65 miles a week particularly miserable. In fact, being outside in general, is just plain hard. This July is different, though – it’s worse. It will go down as one of the most humid months in the history of Illinois; as I try to diligently push forward in my training, it is apparent.
Rewind my life six months and you will see a very different me. You will find a scared boy masquerading his way through life, trapped in the body of a 26-year-old man. This feeling that I had grown so accustomed to, had started to seem normal. Maybe life isn’t as grand as I once had imagined. Maybe everyone else is unhappy too, just packaging up the highlights and presenting them to the world as exhilaration.
This conclusion, although twisted, was where I found justification for my actions. The liquor, the fast food and sedentary lifestyle had become my routine and a refuge from the pain and disappointment that I felt deep inside. As a child, I was blessed to grow up with a loving and supportive family that worked very hard to make sure I was prepared for every opportunity that came my way. I had attended great schools and surrounded myself with the best of friends, but unfortunately, the man I saw looking back at me in the mirror was not a byproduct of that lifestyle. I had gone my own way and there was nobody else to blame.
To know you had options and still chose the wrong thing is a scar that stains your heart for a long time. To look back and see the people you’ve hurt and the bridges you’ve burned is even harder. I had been given all the opportunity in the world and I sat there and watched as it all slipped away.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that I said “enough is enough,” but something changed. When your back is against the wall, you only have a couple of options. The easiest option of course, is to fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position. When overcome with pain this is a natural response, a defense mechanism. It is easier to accept defeat sometimes than it is to put up a fight, and although a harsh reality, it is one I fear many people can relate to at some point in their life. The other, tougher option, is of course to fight. To look your opponent in the eyes and come out guns blazing. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I felt like running.
Physical fitness had been a big part of my adolescence but an activity I had long since forgotten. As a teenager, athletics were always my escape. They were a way to leave behind the trials and tribulations of everyday life and focus that energy into something productive. If I could exert enough of my spirit into something exhausting and something that I was truly passionate about, I would always walk away a better person. A more enlightened me. So as I drove out to the track that day, beaten down and broken, I tried to remember what it was like to be a child. With nostalgia in the passenger’s seat, I parked my car.
The first mile was hell. “I don’t remember a mile being this long,” I thought to myself. “It’s only a mile, come on, Dallas!” I used to be very good at this distance. In fact, when I was 13 years old, I ran a sub-5 minute mile to place second at state. Maybe that’s why this was so hard to believe. Every second that I ran seemed to be moving me no closer to the finish line as the burn in my legs seemed to multiply with each step. “Come on, Dallas! You’re almost there, don’t give up,” I kept saying to myself.
As I approached the last bend with the finish line in sight, the torment became unbearable. I fell to ground in disbelief and proceeded to vomit everywhere. If there had been an indicator of how much I let myself go, this was it. I looked at my watch and it read 6:47. Almost two minutes slower than my record and I didn’t even finish. It was apparent that I had a lot of work to do.
As I laid in the midst of all the negativity, I felt an unfamiliar sense of peace arising. Although part of me was sad to see the shape I was in, I felt a satisfaction that had almost been forgotten. For that moment, I was proud of myself. I showed up and for once, I didn’t let fear take the wheel. As I experienced this breakthrough, I realized I was in control again.
All of a sudden everything seemed so clear: my life is a product of the effort that I put in. Nothing more, nothing less. I am the architect of my own destiny and with patience, the right attitude and enough hard work, I have the power to change my future. From this moment on, I knew I was a runner. I sat up and felt a smile come over me. I was nowhere near where I wanted to be, but I was on my way. And that was all that mattered.
