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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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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

Imported from Detroit

What happens when you send a car-crazed gear head to the headquarters of an iconic American car company to talk to the employees about living a healthy, active lifestyle? What happened to me was that I got to spend two fantastic days with people who are as passionate about cars and trucks as I am. And, I learned that there are a lot of similarities between what they do, the way new vehicles and equipment are imagined and created and the way an adult-onset athlete like myself changes their life.

When I was younger, when I was smoking and drinking and working 80 hours a week I couldn’t imagine living a lifestyle any different from that. I didn’t know that there was any other way to live. I didn’t know anyone who lived any differently.

I wasn’t fundamentally a different person back then. My history, my education, my influences and influencers were all the same. I didn’t have a personality change when I discovered the joy of being active. The things that I enjoyed when I was locked in sedentary confinement – cars, motorcycles, racing – are the things that I enjoy now.

So it was with great eagerness that I accepted the invitation to go to Auburn Hills, Michigan to speak to the Chrysler folks. All I asked in exchange was the opportunity to learn a little more about the inside workings of a great car company. What I got was that, and a whole lot more.

It would take a book to describe everything that I got to see and do. Even they highlights would be longer than a blog. But, in summary I got to see the “Pilot” area where they cut and chop and glue together new models to see what will work and what won’t. I got to visit the assembly plant where the new Jeep Grand Cherokees and Dodge Durangos are produced. I had a special interest in that since I own a new Durango. All I can say is that the absolute dedication to making a flawless vehicle was palpable. It was impressive.

I got to spend time in the design studios and see how a vehicle goes from concept to showroom. It is a process that is part art, part science, and part pure magic.

And, I got to spend time in the “innovation” department. Think about the weapons room in the movie “Men in Black”. These folks are working on devices, and contemplating improvements to the driver and passenger experience, and the safety of the vehicles that are light years ahead of where we are now. They are not just mad scientist, or engineers. They are wizards who imagine what might be and then make it happen.

What I learned was that it’s impossible to make the perfect car. All it took was a walk through the Chrysler museum to drive that point home. There were cars there that were designed and built by the best minds of the time using the latest techniques and yet today they look antiquated. It’s not that they weren’t great vehicles in their time. They were. And many were ahead of their time. [Think Chrysler Airflow]

What I now realize is that it’s impossible to make the perfect me. And it never was. That person that I used to me was what I thought was the best me possible based on the information I had at the time. I thought smoking made me cool. I thought fat was where it was at. I thought over-indulgence was a right of passage.

Now, though, just like the wonderful folks at Chrysler, I have to be willing to abandon some of my most closely held beliefs. I have to be willing to accept that what is, is not what will always be.

And that the only way I will ever be better than I am is to imagine what I am not.

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

Two For the Road

John and JimThere are days when everything comes together. You feel good, the weather’s good, and planets are all aligned. It’s what Frank Shorter calls a “no excuses” day. And when that day happens on a goal race day you just know something special is going to happen. Yesterday, March 24, 2012, was that kind of day for me. It was one that I will remember for the rest of my life.

A little recap. In January of 2010 I did something to my sacroiliac joint. It’s a plate joint, not a ball joint and it was out of alignment. 6 months and weeks of physical therapy and two injections later the pain was manageable. It was about that time that the pain in my foot became really obvious. In September, when I was finally diagnosed with a dislocated cuboid joint the year was officially a write off.

In January of 2011 I started the 100 Days Challenge of moving, intentionally, for at least 30 minutes a day every day for the first 100 days. Turns out I kept going and walked at least 30 minutes every day for the entire year.

In January of 2012 I committed to getting back to training. I know enough to know that I had to start with reasonable goals and achievable results. With that in mind I chose the Penguin in the Park 5K as the race for which I would train. I had a very reasonable goal of finishing in 45 minutes. Not world record pace, but for me it was a serious goal.

As I spent the first few weeks of the year assessing my fitness and making my training plan it became clear that 45 minutes would not be easy. I couldn’t run for more than one minute and needed plenty of walking for recovery. I had a goal, though, and that’s what mattered.

What is sometimes misunderstood about those of us farther back in the pack is that to perform at OUR best we have to do the very same kinds of workouts as those in the front. So, I did long runs and tempo runs and speed work and race-pace runs. I calculated and recalculated. I figured out what it was going to take to finish in 45 minutes and worked hard to get there.

Race morning was cool and dry. My buddy Jim Welsh had agreed to pace me. As you can see from the photo, Jim’s a lot taller than me. His walk pace is much faster than mine. As it turns out, my run pace was a bit of a push for him. So, together we set out in search of that 45 minute finish.

At mile one I was surprised to see our pace. Something around 12:45. I looked up at Jim but didn’t say anything. When we hit mile 2 in about 25 minutes looked at Jim and told him that I hated him. It was clear that not only were we on a sub 45 pace, we were – if we kept at it – on a sub 40 minute pace.

It was pretty quiet that last mile. I was at my limit. Maybe Jim was too. Whatever we were feeling we had a monster finish in sight. I came across in 38:45. Jim a second later. We hugged like a Gold Medal relay team. We’d done it. We’d BOTH gotten PR’s. It was magic.

What’s the next goal? I’m not sure. I know that I’m going to run/walk the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in Virginia Beach on Labor Day weekend. But I’ve got a feeling there’s gonna be a few 5 and 10K’s before then.

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: Because of runners like John, the wall of intimidation has crumbled, and tens of thousands of Americans are now believing in themselves. John has helped raise self-esteem and self-confidence in people all over the world. Nothing is more important to a person’s well-being.Dave McGillivray, Boston Marathon race director

Groundhog Day

If you haven’t seen the movie Groundhog Day, I strongly encourage you to see it. I think it’s Bill Murray’s best work. The movie is funny enough on it’s face, but if you look beyond the gags the allegory is really poignant. I don’t think it gives away the plot to suggest that the point is that until you’re willing to take some risks and take action to change your life you’ll be living the same day over-and-over even if the calendar date changes.

That was certainly the case for me. There were lots of external changes in my life. I went from being in school to being in grad school to being in the Army to being back in school to getting a job and so it went. I was married. I was not married. I was married again. And so it went.

I changed jobs, changed careers, changed the geography of my life and yet, sooner or later, everything that I had been became everything that I was: again. Like so many people I weighed too much, I ate too much, and  I drank too much. So I tried eating less, drinking less, cutting out carbs and fats and protien. I ate nuts and bananas, eggs and cheese, fat free yogurt and low fat peanut butter. For a while.

But who I was always resurfaced. It didn’t matter what I did to the outside of myself the inside of me stayed the same. I was going around in circles. Every day was the same day. It was the movie Groundhog Day and I was the star.

It all changed the day I took my first run. It was more of a walk, or a waddle, or a stumble. It was movement. Forward movement. And even though I ended up where I started out I knew that I had gone somewhere. That experience of moving – slow, steady, relentless moving – was new. Something was changing. Slowly, for sure, but changing. I was changing. With each run I got farther away from who I’d been and closer to who I was becoming.

So when I watch Bill Murray finally come to grips with the truth that the biggest problem in his life was that he was the one living it, I smile. When I remember all the excuses I had for not being active, for not eating better, for not living a life with more purpose, I smile. It was never relationships or bosses or experiences that help me back. It was me.

If your life feels like Groundhog Day, I understand. I’ve been there. I lived there.

But I can tell you that it doesn’t have to stay that way. Life can change. YOU can change. And you can do it with nothing more than your own two feet.

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

100 Chronicles and more

Another from The Penguin Chronicles archive.

How my running life began, and why it’ll never get old.

There was a time when becoming a runner was the farthest thing from my mind. Runners were, or so I thought, a lost group of tortured souls with tortured soles, achy muscles, and creaky knees. They were – as best I could tell from the safe distance I kept from all matters requiring movement – either pain addicts or fools. If they were the former they were to be pitied. If they were the latter, they were to be unmercifully mocked.

At the time, I was a graduate student at the University of Illinois and I knew only one runner. I listened to him describe his latest foray into marathon madness with equal measures of shock and amusement. And as he told in graphic detail the exact place and degree of chafing that occurred on his body, my amusement turned to horror. His stories of blisters were not for the faint of heart.

Somewhere between the black toenails and bleeding nipples I decided that he simply didn’t have the courage to actually kill himself in one fatal act so he was going to accomplish it one mile at a time. Worse, to my way of thinking, he was actually proud of himself. Did he really think that a group of non-runners would applaud this lunacy? We didn’t. We sat in silence. It was madness pure and simple.

In time graduate school, my runner friend, and his stories faded into the shadows of my memories, and I pursued employment and other endeavors. Thoughts of running disappeared for more than a decade. Then, at 43, when I was an associate dean at Oberlin College, I had one colleague who was becoming a runner and another who was an avid cyclist. They seemed to have something I didn’t, although I didn’t know what that was. I couldn’t bring myself to run at first, so I bought a bike. Later, I decided to try to become a runner.

Like most beginning runners, I ran too much too soon. I ran too fast and too far. I discovered almost immediately what I was running from. I was running from where I had been, where I was, and where I was headed. But like so many runners, no matter how far or how fast I ran, I always ended up right where I had started. With myself.

I got what help I could from this magazine. I took what I could understand from Hal Higdon, Joe Henderson, and the late, great running philosopher George Sheehan. I read their words but didn’t really know their meaning. I knew what it was to run, but had no idea what it was to be a runner.

The only way I could make sense out of my running was to write about it. It started simply enough by keeping a logbook. That soon gave way to writing a running journal, and that eventually gave way to writing fervently about running. I discovered early on that it wasn’t the sport of running that attracted me but the act of running. It was in the pounding of my own heart, in the rhythm of my own breathing that the answers began to come. The answers came if, and only if, I kept running.

I had written to a group of runners on the Internet. “Runner’s World” editor Amby Burfoot called me and asked if I would write eight columns. That was the original agreement. One phone call, eight columns. And with that my life changed.

I wrote in one of those first columns that my running shoes had become giant erasers on my feet. Each footstrike wiped away the memory of some earlier indiscretion or failure. Each new pair of running shoes carried the potential of unlocking some secret place. Each pair of worn-out running shoes carried with them the scars of a healing soul.

One hundred columns later I am still here. More importantly you, the readers, are still here. You are, and have always been, the greatest gift that I have gotten from writing. We have dared to share our lives with one another. Together we have seen each other through 100 months of successes and failures.

I’ve seen life as a non-runner and as a runner. I can tell you with complete assurance that I’ve chosen, and will continue to choose, running. Without running there are no runners. And I’ve learned that a runner is everything I hope to be.

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: Because of runners like John, the wall of intimidation has crumbled, and tens of thousands of Americans are now believing in themselves. John has helped raise self-esteem and self-confidence in people all over the world. Nothing is more important to a person’s well-being.Dave McGillivray, Boston Marathon race director

Year of the Dragon

P.F. Chang's Dragon In the Chinese horoscope, 2012 is the Year of the Dragon. [the new year begins January 23] The Dragon symbol is of an intelligent and laborious worker who never puts aside work though sometimes this leads him to excesses. The water Dragon has enough courage to face challenges and easily finds weak points that stand on his way to success.

So far, so good. Except that I was born in the Year of the Rat. Which is not all bad since People under the rat sign are usually smart and wealthy and will work for success. They are sanguine and very adaptable, being popular with others. They are clever and adorable, personable and materialistic. They are also by nature thoughtful, sensible, judiciously and curious. That ain’t awful.

So far, though, 2012 has been the year of the Dragging. As in, dragging my butt out the door or on to the treadmill. I’m doing it, but I can’t say that I’ve got the fire in the belly that I hoped for.

Quick rehash; skip this paragraph if you already know. January 2009, slip my sacroiliac joint, spend six months seeing doctors, getting injected, doing therapy and not much else. April-September 2009 too stupid to see a podiatrist about the pain in my foot because I was sure it was plantar fasciitis, which is was NOT. It was a dislocated cuboid joint. January 2011 start the 100 Day Challenge by walking, stick with walking every day for the entire year.

Now it’s January 2012. My plan was to stay with the 100 Day Challenge but reintroduce running to the winter schedule and  – I hoped – cycling [road and mountain] to the spring and summer schedule. Everything went fine, I stared running one minute and walking for 4 for 45 minutes, for – oh – about a week. Then somehow – SOMEHOW – my back started acting up again. AAARRRGGGHHH. Back to walking.

Today I ran/walked again. It felt great. And then I did something I almost never do. I stretched. On my back, one leg at a time, pulling on the strap and holding it and repeating. Maybe, just MAYBE, my hamstrings really ARE tight [as Coach Jenny keeps saying] and I really should do just a little bit of flexibility.

I really want to run. I want to run/walk the Penguin in the Park 5K at the end of March. To do that, I’ll have to train. To train I’ll have to be able to run. To continue to run, it looks like, I’ll have to work on my flexibility.

It’s a start. Yeah, I know. Next comes full-body flexibility and core strength. Baby steps. With any luck this will be the Year of the Penguin.

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: Because of runners like John, the wall of intimidation has crumbled, and tens of thousands of Americans are now believing in themselves. John has helped raise self-esteem and self-confidence in people all over the world. Nothing is more important to a person’s well-being.Dave McGillivray, Boston Marathon race director

A Year of Living Actively

2011 was quite a year. I’ve been a runner, or what I think of as a runner, for 20 years. I’ve run 45 marathons, I’ve done more half marathons and 5 and 10K’s than I can remember, I’ve done duathlons, triathlons, and even a couple of half Ironmans. But what I did in 2011 means more to me than all of that combined.

In December of 2010, after the most frustrating athletic year of my life, I decided to move, intentionally, for 30 minutes a day for the first 100 days of 2011. I wasn’t concerned about what I did, or how well I did it. I just made the commitment – to myself – that I was going to move every day.

I discovered in the first couple of weeks that I couldn’t run every day. The old aches and pains started coming back and I knew that if I didn’t get smart in a hurry that my 100 days would be over almost before it began. I changed my strategy. I decided to walk for at least 30 minutes a day through January. I figured I started running again come February 1.

In February, I figured I start running on March 1. In March, I figured April, after the 100 days challenged ended. But a funny thing happened. I discovered that I really like walked. Not just kinda liked it. I really liked it. Instead of having to have a training plan and schedule, I could just put on my shoes and go for a walk.

I walked in the woods near my house. I walked at 3 a.m. in rural Princeton, Illinois. I walked in Phoenix, and Seattle, and San Diego, and San Francisco, and a lot of other places. I walked in the dark, in the sunshine, in the heat, cold, and rain. It didn’t matter. I walked on the treadmill with a cup of coffee in my hand.

I’m a runner. In my heart, despite the fact that I’ve never been able to be competitive, I’ve been a runner – and a racer. I’ve pinned on the race numbers. I’ve stood nervously at the start lines. I’ve crossed finish lines exhausted, exhilarated, and humiliated. So for me to walk for 100 days was more an emotional challenge than a physical one.

Looking back, now, I can see that this was a journey that I had to take. I’d often talked about how important it was to live an active lifestyle. What I meant, though, was that it was important to be a runner. I talked about the importance of moving. What I meant, though, was finding ways to go farther or faster.

Now that I’ve done it. Now that I have moved intentionally every day for an entire year, I’m ready to take on a new challenge. That challenge, for 2012, will be to rediscover my identity as a runner. During the Runner’s World Pace Team years I ran a bunch of marathons, sometimes 6 in one year. My body wasn’t designed for that.

I’m going to train for, and race in, some 5K’s. The goal will be to set a “modern era” personal best. At 63 I don’t have the faintest idea what that will be. So I’ll go in search of that answer.

More importantly, I’ll move every day. I’ll train some days. I’ll recover some days. I’ll be eager some days. I won’t want to do anything some days. I’ve learned, though, that every day counts. This year, all 366 of them.

Waddle on, friends.
John

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What others are saying: Because of runners like John, the wall of intimidation has crumbled, and tens of thousands of Americans are now believing in themselves. John has helped raise self-esteem and self-confidence in people all over the world. Nothing is more important to a person’s well-being.Dave McGillivray, Boston Marathon race director