The Penguin Chronicles

I am living proof that your life can change with a single phone call. We all know that our life can change for the worse with a single phone call, but we don’t often think that the most dramatic, and positive, change in your life can start by saying “Hello”. It did for me.

In the Fall of 1995, then editor of Runner’s World Magazine, Amby Burfoot called me in my office as Chair of the Department of Music at Middle Tennessee State University. Marlene Cimons had sent him a few emails that I had sent to the then secret email group “The Dead Runners Society.” Keep in mind that this is 1995. No Facebook or Twitter. He asked me if I’d like to write 8 monthly columns for Runner’s World beginning with May 1996. Without thinking, I said yes.

In the Spring of 1997 I found myself being carted around New York City by Linda Rogaar, a book agent. Through a mutual friend, Sue Flaster, she had connections with some of the biggest publishing houses. The next thing I know, Simon and Schuster, through their Fireside division, is making me an offer to write a book. That book, which they wanted to call “Slow But Steady Wins the Race” became “The Courage to Start.”

Writing that book was the most terrifying experience of my life. The only other thing I’d written was my doctoral dissertation “The Innovative Uses of the Trombone in Selected Compositions of Vinko Globokar” copies of which are available for terminal insomniacs. The writing took months of sitting and staring at a laptop screen hoping that words would magically appear. When they did, I wrote with manic intensity for fear that the flow of words would stop.

I submitted the manuscript to a young editor who only managed to get through the first half before she got married and left. The second editor got through the second half, and then she quit. The third editor shipped the completed manuscipt – the ONLY copy because everything was done on paper in those days – to the wrong address and it took weeks to find it before she quit. And the fourth editor, the one whose job it would be to promote the book had no stake or interest in the project and the book sort of died on the vine.

But, because of you, the readers, the little book started selling. Not “Harry Potter” numbers, but it was selling. Running titles are a niche’ market, and this book didn’t exactly fit into the “read this and get faster” genre. It was part confessional, part life philosophy, part new age psychology, part idle musing. It didn’t fit neatly into any category. In fact, if you look at the cover it’s cataloged as “Self-Help – Motivational”, not running.

This week I heard from Linda Roghaar that this little book that no one seemed to want has sold over 65,000 copies. 65,000. That’s a big threshold to cross. It means that Simon and Schuster now wants to release an “e” version. It means that they think it will continue to tell both in print and digital formats. In means that it won’t go out of print any time soon.

This is a thank you note; to those of you who have bought the book, to those of you who have passed it on to friends, to those of you who keep tattered version in your nightstand, to those of you who have – and continue – to find inspiration in what we believed was simply a story about a middle-aged over-weight, smoker, drinker, over-eater who changed his life with his own two feet.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Read on, friends.

You can find the print version on Amazon or get an autographed version at: Courage to Start

Filed under: Bingham, John "the Penguin" Bingham, motivation, Penguin, Running, Walking | Tagged: Bingham, Penguin, running, walking | 3 Comments »

Here is an early Penguin Chronicle that may help to put the whole “Penguin phenomenon” into perspective. As you can tell from the tone of the column, no one was more surprised by how this started than me.

From time to time I get insights into how my life is changing – and how running has become the change agent. Those of you who, by nature or by training, are better tuned to your own psyches may scoff at the density of my awareness. Be reminded that I have been no more inclined to be open with myself than I have with others.

It’s also helpful to remember that I’ve had a difficult time thinking of myself as a runner. It doesn’t seem to matter what my log says or what others say, I am still more comfortable referring to myself as “someone who runs” than as “a runner”.

Lately I’ve noticed that in stressful times I reach for my running shoes. Earlier in my life I might have reached for a cigarette, a beer, some food or the company of another person. And, when I once would have turned outside myself for help in tough times, running now allows me to turn inside.

I’ve noticed, too, that in times of celebration and joy – when before I would have reached for something to eat or drink – I now reach for my running shoes. I find myself running when I’m happy as well as when I’m troubled.

Through the activity of running, more than the sport itself, I have come to be a much better friend to myself. Through running I have learned to console myself, congratulate myself and be accepting of myself.

There are times in my life, though, when there are not enough miles to run. There are times when the movement of my feet seems like the only measure of control I have over my day or my life. On those days – on the days when circumstances conspire to show me only the worst of who I am and who I am becoming – my running shoes become life-preservers.

At times I find myself sitting and staring at my shoes, waiting for them to somehow find the energy to begin running by themselves. It’s almost as if, like a squirrel, I have been hiding good feelings inside my shoes for the days when I need them.

The miracle is that very often the strategy seems to work. With the first tentative foot strike, the first stumbling step, the first stride of conviction toward the person I want to be, I am liberated. As the miles pass I stop staring at the ground in defeat. I begin to hold my head up. I rediscover pride in overcoming the past and conquering the present.

In those moments I come closest to accepting that I am a runner. During those minutes and hours I am sure of one thing – I can put one foot in front of the other. I truly am a runner and not just a person who runs.

And in those moments I realize I am also part of a community of runners. Even when I am running alone, I know that somewhere, at the same time, hundreds of other people are doing the same thing. Some, perhaps, for the same reasons.

The best part is knowing that some of you out there are running with me.

Waddle on, friends. I need the company.

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Filed under: Bingham, John "the Penguin" Bingham, motivation, Penguin, Running, Walking | Tagged: Bingham, Penguin, running, walking | 2 Comments »