I’ve never really been “out of shape” but at the same time, I wasn’t really “in shape” either. I was basically always an average athlete in most sports and was never picked first for anything. At the age of 18, I enlisted in the Army National Guard, recruited by my twin brother who had already undergone basic training while in high school at the age of 17. It didn’t take much convincing; I didn’t have any solid plans or much of a future. “You can work on computers and networks in the Army!” my twin told me, and I was sold. A week later I was enlisted. Now at this point, I had experienced some “oddities” with my back but mostly I just assumed these were things that everyone dealt with as I had never been diagnosed with anything or had any reason to believe anything was abnormal. We didn't exactly come from money either and generally speaking we didn't go to the hospital unless it was absolutely necessary. Most of our medical care was done at home (but that’s a post for another time). Not that my parents pushed this on us, but we understood our situation. We made do.
So in 2012, I made it through basic training at Fort Sill and on the final PT test I smashed the push-ups, scored better on the run than I ever could have imagined (I hated running with a passion), a 14:42 two-mile! Now, when it came to the sit-ups I barely squeaked by. By the end of the two minutes my abs didn't really hurt but my spine was on fire, a normal occurrence with core work for me, which, again, I just assumed was something everyone dealt with. So, a few months later in AIT, a much more specialized, job-specific training, I continued to deal with this pain. With terrible bunks that were basically a glorified sponge that had long since needed replacing, it only got worse and worse. And then one day I experienced one of the worst nerve pinches I've ever experienced. I was locked in place physically and could not move without excruciating pain. When it did finally subside I decided I needed to visit a doc and see if maybe I had pulled something in my back.
Scoliosis. That's what they found. It may as well have been right then and there, but exit paperwork was started for me, as I was only a measly E-1 and the Army found it to be in their best interest to have me discharged. Eventually I was able to gather myself mentally and take it as a blessing, because in truth I was in pain and I wanted to do something about it. The Army's answer to my problem (and many other people’s) was to medicate. During my time in the Army, that meant pills and “profile” (a little piece of paper with physical restrictions). I wasn't even allowed to stand for more than 15 minutes. I knew that wasn't what my body needed. Things were only getting worse. Unfortunately, after I left, things only went downhill. I had an MRI and also discovered I had severe degenerative disc disease as well as multiple bulging discs (four at the time) in my spine. A pain specialist told me I had the spine of an injured 50 year old. Things were looking bleak.
Sadly, when I got out of the Army, I did not embark on a path of health and recovery. I drank, I smoked, I did all sorts of things that were not good for me. I was at least attempting to go to community college to make something of myself, but for the most part I was truly doing nothing with or for myself; I was merely passing the time. Years passed and after moving back and forth between my home state of Michigan and a few stints in Kansas, I finally made my way back to Michigan permanently. Still, this lifestyle continued. For years. One day, on my day off from working at the local coffee shop, something got into me – I wanted to go for a run. To this day, I do not know what motivated me to do that, but I ran. And oh did I burn myself out. I went balls out without thinking about pace and barely made it up the first hill. I continued this trend of running to the point of when I felt I “couldn’t” anymore, and then stopped to walk. That would be the last time I ran for nearly 4 more years.
Sure, I hit the weights every now and again just to feel like I was doing something, but really I wasn't. I was getting that "feel good" rush without actually putting in any real sustained work. Then one day I listened to a podcast that changed my life. It was Joe Rogan interviewing David Goggins. And the story Goggins had to share made me realize how much I had been cheating myself. How much I had been truly shorting myself, my life and those around me. And it didn't take any time at all before I was lacing up my beat up old Asics (which, by all means, were already broken down from work and walking the dog). I don't remember if I had a specific goal for mileage in mind or not, but something clicked in my mind. Just keep your legs moving. You're not falling over yet.
Spring of 2018, I completed my first 5K after having run only once since 2012. My legs, my hips, my feet, and, my lord, my toes were absolutely wrecked. But I loved it. I didn't care about the pain so much as how proud I was for going out and getting after it like that and completing a distance I had never gone for. And that feeling stuck with me in a most peculiar way. There was an overwhelming sense of calm, a feeling that everything was going to be “ok”.
I was hooked.
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