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    He's been called the Pied Piper of the Second Running Boom. Once an overweight couch potato with a glut of bad habits, including smoking and drinking, at the age of 43 Bingham looked mid-life in the face—and started running.

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The Soul of the Planet

penguins_cut I suppose all of us have a place where we feel most at peace. I know I spent a lot of years looking for that one spot on earth where my rhythms and the rhythms of the universe were in synch.

I found moments when there was harmony; literally and figuratively. Once, while performing the Berlioz Requiem with the National Symphony, as part of the antiphonal brass choir, I felt as though I had been transported to some magical place. The music around me combined with my own music, was transcendent. They were also ephemeral. When the final chord faded, so did the feeling.

Once, on a deserted two-lane road late on a pitch-black night, I felt as though the motorcycle that I was riding had become an extension of my being. I was traveling much faster that should have, I was focused on nothing else but the outer edge of the beam from the headlight, and the deadly silence was disturbed only by sound of the engine. Slowing down as I approached the next town, though, the moment ended.

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Then, there’s Antarctica. And, in my case, the Antarctica Marathon and Half Marathon. If I posted 100 photos of Antarctica I could never capture the vastness. I couldn’t capture it even knowing that I’ve only seen a tiny fraction of that vastness. Antarctica is, without question, the most humbling place on earth. In 7 trips to the lost continent I’ve never known anyone to come away untouched.

For some it’s the stark and endless beauty. For others it’s the wildlife. It’s being followed by the legendary Wandering Albatross, or watching hundreds of penguins being – well – penguins, or having a giant Humpback whale stick his head out of the water just feet in front of your kayak. None of it, not one minute of it, is normal. Every second is extraordinary.

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I’ve never been to Mount Everest. Never will. But, I understand the draw to the highest place on earth. Standing on the summit you are as close to the heavens as you can get. In Antarctica, for me at least, you are standing at the center of the soul of the planet. For all the danger, for all the unforgiving elements, there is – for me – an eerie sense of being absolutely safe.

When I am there I am connected to something much greater than I can comprehend. It is a higher power beyond my understanding. And the message I hear is that despite all my worrying and fretting and planning and disappointment, everything is OK.

Waddle on, friends.

Facebook Friend-see

friendsWhen Facebook first come into the national consciousness I had no idea what it was or what it could do. I couldn’t even figure out how to get an account so I hired a recent college graduate, a 20-something computer whiz, to establish my Facebook presence. He created two pages; a John Bingham page [Facebook/jjbingham] and a “Penguin” page [Facebook/john the penguin bingham] What I didn’t know then was that the personal page, John Bingham, allowed people to “friend” you. The “penguin” page only allowed people to “like” you. And, as you know, you are limited to 5,000 Facebook friends, a threshold I hit pretty early on.

Not, I must confess, because I actually have 5,000 friends. I just didn’t understand how it all worked; when someone send a friend request I eagerly accepted it.

This morning when I opened my Facebook page and saw the collection of “friends” photos I was astonished at what an elegant, if somewhat bizarre, snapshot it was of my life. So, for those of you who are curious, this is who they are: From the top, left to right.

  • Linda Raymond: My son’s mother and my first wife. I met her when I was 17.
  • Nancy Stutsman, AKA “theQueen”: An old motorcycling musician friend. We’ve been friends since I was in my 20’s.
  • Martha Raymond: My son’s stepfather’s sister. We met when I was in my 30’s.
  • Peter Jacob: The service manager at my local BMW dealership. We’ve argued a bunch but share a passion for motorcycles and good Scotch.
  • Pat Raymond: My son’s stepfather and one of my oldest friends. We share a long-standing love of motorcycles and a new-found love of our grandchildren.
  • Jan Loichle: My high-school girlfriend that I haven’t seen or talked to in 45 years. She was the first, and only, girlfriend that convinced me to wear a “steady” sweater.
  • Evan Wert. A newer friend in the running industry. We discovered early on that we’d rather talk about fast cars then about pronation.
  • Howard Gould. My son’s mother’s younger brother. I met him when he was 8 or 9 years old.
  • Michael Sardo: My cousin/nephew. I’ve known him his entire life, through the awkward transition from child to Marine to Chicago Police officer to father. VERY proud of him.

What do all these people in common? Me, I guess. I’m sure, though, that if each of them were to johntriumphdescribe the “me” that they knew they would be very different “me’s”. Jan would remember the high school John the drove his sports car inside the school. [that’s not Jan in the photo]

The “Queen” would remember a pretty decent bass trombone player who could “wheelie” any motorcycle ever made including a full-dress Yamaha XS1100.

johnhondascramblerHoward would remember a Steve McQueen wannabe who showed up at his parent’s home on a Honda 305 Scrambler. I don’t know how cool he thought I was, but I know how cool I THOUGHT I was.

Michael would remember an uncle that took him camping for the first time and explained that the bathroom was a stand of trees. Years later as a young Marine in Desert Shield, I’m sure a nice tree would have been welcomed.

Pat Raymond would remember working together at Cycles Incorporated and a time when indyriding was as important as breathing. He might remember 3 guys sleeping in a two-man tent in the rain. [that’s Pat with our oldest grandson at the MotoGP race at Indianapolis. In the backround is my son and younger grandson with our buddy John]

In the end, though, this snapshot brings more memories to me than to any of them. It is a reminder of how far I’ve come, how difficult that path has been at times, how important certain people have been in my life whether they were there for a few months or 40 years, and of how fortunate I’ve been to have ever been able to call each of them “friend.”

It may be my age speaking, because the theme song from Golden Girls is ringing in my ears. I’d to say to every one of them:  “Thank you for being a friend.”

John

Unplugged

unpluggedIt’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t connected electronically to almost everything almost all of the time. I’ve had one email address or another for almost 30 years. I didn’t get a cell phone – or car phones as we called them back then – as early as my cousin did. His was about the size of a small suitcase and required professional installation. I can still recall the first time he called me from his car. I thought I was on an episode of Star Trek.

I was so excited when they replaced the 1200 baud “Gandalf” box in my office with a 2400 baud box that I was ready to throw a party. And, at one point, I had a whole box of modems. The thought of wireless access wasn’t even a fantasy in my world.

But times change. And I’ve changed. I’ve moved past my early Motorola “flip phone” that had 20 minute talk time – if fully charged – through a series of “brick” phones and Blackberrys until I finally settled on my constant companion iPhone. I think I’m better off for the transition. I am not always convinced that I am. But mostly.

All this doesn’t even take into consideration of the advent of Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and Pinterest and LinkIn and others that I haven’t heard of yet that someone, somewhere, wants me to join. And don’t get me started on the games. I don’t have a farm and don’t want one.

When my son sends photos and videos of himself and grandkids I’m happy that I can see them instantly. When I can take a photo and send it out over Instagram, I’m happy. When I check my Twitter feed, or Facebook for updates, I’m happy. But, I am days away from being completely off-grid for nearly two weeks. For the 7th time I’ll be on a ship, somewhere near the South Shetlands Islands, off the coast of Antarctica. We’ll be so far south that even satellite phones are unreliable.

What’s it like? Well, it’s a bit like living in the 18th century. Time goes more slowly. Conversations wander at a more leisurely pace. A cup of coffee can take up the entire morning and an evening chatting with friends over drinks becomes the greatest entertainment. In other words: it’s wonderful.

Being so connected is a double-edged sword. It can makes us seem closer to people far from us but can also keep us far away from the people closest to us. For the next couple of weeks I won’t have the choice. And I am looking forward to it.

Be well my friends. I’ll be back in time for the beginning of Spring.

John

 

The Chicken and the Pig

bacon and eggsMy old buddy Coach Roy Benson had a simple way of explaining the difference between involvement and commitment. He would say that when you think of a breakfast of bacon and eggs, the chicken is involved, the pig is committed. With apologies to my Vegan friends, it certainly sums it up.

I hear lots of talk about how today’s runners aren’t as committed to the sport as were the runners in the 70’s or 80’s. Today’s runners are criticized for not being willing to put in the time and miles.

I hear that they’re only involved in the events and the travel and the social aspects, that they just want to have fun, to enjoy a healthy active lifestyle without paying their dues. Really?

I have exercised in some fashion for over 20 years. I’ve been a runner, a walker, a duathlete, a triathlete, an adventure racer, kayaker, swimmer, and cyclist. And I haven’t been very good at any of them. And – I’ve enjoyed every minute of every day that I’ve been active. To say that I’m not committed, that I’m just involved, is pure poppycock.

Now, it’s true that there were years in my life where I was able to be more committed to competing. Especially in the early years when every race distance and every race experience was new I spent more time planning, training, and racing. I’d spend hours creating elaborate training schedules based on what I viewed as the best of what was available, and I’d commit to getting in the training no matter what.

That “no matter what” often included an ache or a pain or an injury. I was committed. I couldn’t miss a workout or my whole training strategy would fall apart. Or so I thought. In my commitment I was stressed out and often disappointed that I wasn’t improving more quickly.

At some point I began to worry less about my level of commitment and more about my level of joy. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t keep doing the things that I enjoyed if I took all the joy out of the activities.

My commitment never changed. What changed was how I expressed that commitment. What also changed was that I remembered what I got started with all this in the first place; to have fun.

Waddle on, friends.

You can follow me on Twitter: @jjbingham

and on Facebook: @john thepenguin bingham

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

The Well Lubricated Runner

duct tapeYears ago I worked with a crusty, old [like maybe 40!] Scottish motorcycle mechanic named Stewart. His brogue and the fact that he had lost one leg below the knee in a motorcycle accident made him seem more like a pirate than a master mechanic.

He used to fill the junior mechanics, me among them, with his hard-earned words of wisdom. The one that remains with me all these years later was: “If it CAN be lubricated it NEEDS to be lubricated and if it CAN be adjusted it NEEDS to be adjusted.”

He had one other simple explanation for the mysteries of the mechanical world. “If it moves and shouldn’t, use duct tape [DUCT, not duck]. If it doesn’t move and it should, use WD-40.” You’d be amazed at how often that’s all you need to know.

In some ways life as a runner – or walker or cyclist or any of 100’s of other activities – is almost that simple. If it hurts you’re doing too much. If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing enough. If you think about it, it’s pretty much all you need to know about training. Too much, something hurts. Too little, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything at all.wd40

Unlike the mechanic’s dilemma, the athlete’s dilemma is much more nuanced. If a little training feels good then most of us believe that more training will feel even better. If we start seeing progress in our training by doing speed work one day a week then we’re sure we’ll progress twice as fast if we do two sessions a week.

On the other hand, if we’re feeling achy and sore and know we need to take time off we’re never sure exactly how much rest is enough and how much is too much. And nothing that we experienced previously can help us decide. As George Sheehan wrote, “We are all an experiment of one.”

The best we can do is use the time-honored method of trial and error. We’ll get it right sometimes. We’ll get it wrong sometimes. All that matters is that we keep trying to figure it out.

Even Stewart couldn’t argue with that.

Waddle on, friends.

John

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

For the Love of Running

legends1I suppose a little context for this photo would help. On the left, as you look at the photo, is Frank Shorter. In the center is Steve Scott and on the right – waving his hands – is Rod Dixon. They are all legends in their own right if for no other reason than that they are Olympians. But they are so much more than that. And what they’ve been able to accomplish as athletes is no less astonishing now than it was when they were at the peak of their careers.

Rod, the flying Kiwi, a New Zealander, has been called by some the most complete and versatile runner of all time. He had world records, or competed at the world-class level, at every distance from 800 meters to winning the 1983 New York City Marathon. Steve Scott has run more sub-4 minute miles [136] than anyone in history has – or will. And Frank Shorter is known mostly for his 1972 Gold Medal victory in the Olympic Marathon and bringing long-distance running into the mainstream.

For each of them what they would consider their glory years are far behind. That’s not to take anything away from their great careers and accomplishments, only to suggest that for them – for me – and for most of us it isn’t just about the glory. It’s about the activity. It’s about running and walking. The joy is in the movement, in the finding out, in the surprises that are always lurking in the shadows.

Frank Shorter summed it up. He contends that there is an activity that suits each of us. It could be running, walking, swimming, biking, or any of a hundred other activities. Our challenge is to find that activity that feels best, the one that makes our bodies and our souls feel connected, the one that frees our minds from the constraints of mental aspects of the activity and frees us to simply move.

Even though I started moving later in life, I discovered almost immediately that I liked walking, and running, and cycling.  When I was participating in triathlons I tried to like swimming but it never worked. I understand why people like it. I just don’t.

I feel very lucky to have discovered an activity that I can do for the rest of my life. Frank and Rod won’t win any more Olympic medals. Steve will never run another sub-4 minute mile. For them, for me, for you – I hope  – it doesn’t matter. We can move.

Waddle on, friends.

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

I’m not ignorning you. I just don’t know where your message is.

emailI was a very early adopter to email. In 1984, when I was an administrator at School of Music at The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, I had an email address. The only other person I knew that had an email address was the Director of Graduate Admissions. His office was one floor above mine. Since we only had each other to email it wasn’t hard to keep up with my messages.

I was also an early adopter to AOL. Yes, I heard it thousands of times: “You’ve got mail.” I thought I was just about the coolest guy on the planet. I had a modem and I could dial in from anywhere. I could even set the modem to automatically pull mail in the middle of the night so that I could sit in front of the computer with my first cup of coffee.

By the early 2000’s I was getting email messages all day every day. And because the internet was global, so were the emails. I remember my mom being surprised that I got emails “over night.” She didn’t grasp that on the internet there is no night and day, just a continuous stream of data.

Then came domain names and email boxes. Then came email services. Suddenly I had messages scattered across several email addresses [thepenguin@johnbingham.com, john@johnbingham.com, jjbingham@earthlink.net to name just three that are still active] In addition to my AOL account [anyone remember RWPenguin@AOL.com?] I had a Yahoo account and others that I can’t even remember. I had Yahoo groups and the Penguin Brigade listserv. And that was before Google, Facebook, and Twitter.

Now, I have messages coming at me from all directions. There are 3 Facebook accounts [jjbingham, johnthepenguinbingham, and 100dayschallenge] that I personally monitor. There are all the event Facebook accounts. There’s the Twitter account. And, of course, the routine emails.

So, if you’ve emailed me, or messaged me, or IM’ed me, or Tweeted me, or anything else I you haven’t heard back from me, please don’t take it personally. I’m not ignoring you. I just don’t know where your message is.

Waddle on, friends.

You can follow me on Twitter: @jjbingham and on Facebook: @johnthepenguinbingham

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

Why I Won’t Wear a Fedora

fedoraI’m a hat guy. Anyone who’s a hat guy knows what I mean. I like hats. I really, REALLY like hats. If I go to an event, buy a hat. If I like a product, I buy a hat. If I like ANYTHING, I buy a hat. I have running hats, motorcycle hats, NASCAR hats, Army hats… let’s just say I have a lot of hats.

The one hat that I don’t have, and don’t think I’ll ever have, is the Fedora, especially as it is worn these days. My grandfather wore a Fedora. A beautiful, dark gray Fedora. It capped his outfit when he was dressed up. It covered his head when it was raining. It wasn’t a statement. It was a hat. It functioned.

The Black-Eyed Peas singer willi.am wears a cool Fedora and he looks great. For him it’s a natural part of his image. He’s not trying to create the image with the hat. The hat is an extension of the image.

When I first started running I bought a Timex 8-lap Ironman watch. It had a chrono, a timer, alarms, and other things that didn’t know how to use. But it was a running watch. I was a runner. I wore a running watch. I didn’t wear it only when I was running. I wore it ALL the time. Sitting in a boring faculty meeting I could review my previous runs. And, besides, I wanted everyone to know that even though I was still this overweight administrator, I was a runner. Or at least trying to be.

As much as I needed the people in my life to know I was a runner, I needed to wear the running watch to remind myself that I was a runner. Somehow I figured if I wore a runner’s watch I would automatically be considered a runner. The funny thing is, it worked.

Of course, I also wore my running shoes all the time, wore every cotton event t-shirt that I got no matter how ugly [by the way, I think technical event shirts are a mistake, but I’ll save that for another time] and did everything I could do to give the impression that I was a runner. I gave the impression of being a great runner right until the gun went off.

These days I wear comfortable shoes when I’m not running. Shoes that are better for my feet than running shoes are. When I’m not running I wear a watch that tells the time. I wear plain t-shirts. Anyone seeing me out on the street would have no idea that I’m a runner. But I am. And I don’t need to prove it to anyone anymore.

That’s why I won’t wear a Fedora. I’m not that cool. I’m not going to try to pretend I’m that cool.  I don’t need to try to make anyone else believe that I’m that cool.

And my guess is that unless you’re will.i.am, you’re not that cool either.

Waddle on,

John

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motiviation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

This Time for Sure

profileforfacebookI am not a Blogger. I’m not sure that anyone is a blogger anymore, except people who insist on calling themselves “bloggers” because they, well, BLOG. Blogger, it seems to me, kind of went the way of “jogger”. Runners used to call  joggers “joggers” because they didn’t want them confused with “runners.” If you’re a “runner” you want to make sure that everyone knows that you’re not a jogger.

I am a writer. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I have written. I’ve authored. But, I think most writers would consider me a columnist. Old school writers and a lot like old school runners. They, the writers, want to make sure that everyone knows that they are writers, not columnists or – in some cases – authors.

Then there’s the editors. They’re not writers or authors or columnists. They’re editors. They edit. They take what writers and authors – and even columnists – write and they edit it. The best editors make what writers write easier to read and understand without changing the underlying voice. The worst ones re-write to the point that the writer doesn’t even understand what was written. In my career I’ve had some of both kinds of editors.

This is not a blog. Honest. It’s not. It’s something else. I’m not sure what. But it’s not a blog. I post on Facebook. It’s not a post. I tweet on Twitter. It’s not a tweet. I guess if a post is a long tweet then this is a long post. But it’s not a blog.

You see, I’m not a blogger. I’m a – wait, I think I have it – I’m a digital columnist. Nah. That’s not good either. You know what? I am a writer. The “columns” started out as letters to my friends. I wrote those letters. For 2013 I’m going to write this – whatever it is – in the same spirit. This time for sure.

Waddle on, friends.

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide

The Art of Rock ‘n’ Roll

I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure that the photo of the start of the first Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in June of 1998 was not nearly as colorful as the 2012 edition. I know that I was wearing a white singlet, as was just about every else around me.

February 3, 1959 might have been the day the music died, you youngsters can just Google “Buddy Holly” if you don’t understand the reference, but June of 1998 is when the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon series started, and with it a whole new generation of runners, walkers, and waddlers.  I know. I was there.

I went to the first RnR marathon as a member of the Runner’s World Magazine Pace Team. I can’t remember everyone who was there since all of them have left the magazine, but I remember that it was a motley crew of editors and writers and one new columnist. Me.

As I recall the fastest pace team was for a 3 hour finish. It went up every 10 minutes through 4 hours, then went to 4:30 and 5:00 hours. I was, of course, the 5 hour pacer. I was new to writing, new to running, and very new to pacing. No one seemed to care. A few hundred of us lined up to run/walk/dance our way through 26.2 miles.

And that’s exactly what we did. We ran some. We walked some. We danced some. And we laughed A LOT. It was sensational. I don’t remember the exact time we finished, but, I certain we missed the 5 hour target. Somehow it didn’t matter. We were having too much fun.

Since that humble beginning the Rock ‘n’ Roll series has grown to over 20 events nationally, and at least 5 international events. The 12,000 of us who lined up in 1998 gave rise to nearly 250,000 finishers of Rock ‘n’ Roll events in 2011. It’s an amazing tribute to the vision of Tim Murphy, then president of Elite Racing, and his capable gang of followers.

I’ve been at every Rock ‘n’ Roll marathon since. In 1999 my son, Terry, and I rode motorcycles from New York City to San Diego and then ran the marathon. In 2,000 I spoke for the first time at the Team in Training Inspiration Dinner, and I’ve been with the Team ever since.

Many of the years run together – pun intended. There were great years, hot years, cool years, fun years, and some that were brutal. The year I finished so exhausted that I sat in my car for nearly an hour before I could find the strength to change clothes. But no matter, it was a rockin’ good time.

This year I interviewed Olympians Jim Ryun, Ryan Hall, Rod Dixon, Deena Kastor and the legendary miler Steve Scott. I sat on stage with these extraordinary athletes and felt right at home. I was humbled to be sitting next to them, but I didn’t feel out of place. I had, like that had, earned the right to be there.

I hope to be there for the 20th, or 25th. It will be fun to see folks running the marathon that weren’t even born when we ran the first one.

Waddle on,

John

An Accidental Athlete is available in print and ebooks versions now. BUY THE BOOK

Review An Accidental Athlete on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What others are saying: Looking for some motivation to start running and improve your fitness? You’re sure to find some inspiration from John Bingham’s new memoir, “An Accidental Athlete.” As an overweight, uninspired pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker, Bingham realized that he had to make some changes in his life and began running at the age of 43. With wit and humor, Bingham recounts his journey from couch potato to self-proclaimed “adult on-set athlete.”ESPN Gear Guide