Ten Minute Mile

When it comes to running, my motto has always been: The only reason to run is if a bear is chasing me. And even then, I may just fall down and let him eat me, so I don't have to run. I blame my football coach. During practice, that Nazi would have us run laps - in full uniform - until we about died. Meanwhile, he sat on his former offensive line backside, drinking a Coke, yelling profanity-laced instructions at us between gulps. (All this was done as he watched the cheerleaders practice. If nothing else, the guy was a fantastic multi-tasker!) “Run faster, Taylor!” he’d shout. “Stop running like a &@*&% girl!” (Even as he was saying that, I couldn't help but wonder if the girl's track coach would motivate her team by yelling, “Stop running like Taylor!!”) After running us to death, he would make us do some of his super secret plays - none of which we ever used in a game because he didn’t want the other teams to actually steal them (I wish I were kidding). If anyone missed their assignment on the plays, we'd have to run another lap. Needless to say, we ran a lot of laps. Now, this would be bad enough any time of year, but this was during summer vacation. That’s right, while my smarter friends were at Raging Waters or camping or eating Bomb Pops or trying to pick up chicks, I was stuck with a bunch of brainless, thick-necked cavemen who could only communicate by either slapping my butt or using one-syllable words. (Sometimes, simultaneously. SLAP! “Great job!”) The worst part of this was that I was the fourth string tight end. That meant that three people had to get seriously injured before I would even leave the bench. And even then, Coach Hitler probably would put someone else in so I wouldn’t get in the game. My football career ended after I broke my collarbone that year (HALLELUJAH!). And, since I wasn’t expecting to bump into any bears in the future, my running career ended there as well. Or so I thought. Earlier this year, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. She was told by the doctor that it could’ve been prevented if she would’ve just taken care of herself. It’s sad that it had to take something like that for me to put on the running shoes, but I did. On July 25, 2011, I left my house at about 4:15 in the morning to start my new life of health. I walked up the street and back and by the time I arrived home, I was breathing like I had run a marathon. The next day, I woke up with sore leg muscles. After taking a few Ibuprofen (Vitamin I), I laced on the shoes and walked again, this time for one extra block. By Thursday of that week, I was able to jog a little bit. I did it in increments of 30 seconds jog / 60 seconds walk. I then repeated that as many times as I could until I collapsed in a sweaty mass of flesh. (I almost called my wife to have her come pick me up because I didn’t want to do the return trip.) It’s now been about 12 weeks and for the first time in my life, I ran a mile in 10 minutes! I realize that is not that impressive to a lot of you. I mean, it’s definitely not in the Roger Bannister or John Landy realm of running. (Look them up &/or read The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb.) But for me it is huge! I hate to even say it because it’s very cliche, but if I can do it, YOU can do it! No, really!!!! If I can run a 10 minute mile - without a bear chasing me - anyone can fulfill their goals. Don’t wait until tomorrow. Do it today!