By mid-summer after my first year of law school, the toils of the previous year were beginning to make themselves known. Hours of sitting, reading, and studying, despite relatively healthy eating and moderate activity, had me feeling sluggish and, quite frankly, lazy. So, in the late afternoon heat of a Houston summer, I put on my dusty New Balance running shoes, some shorts and a t-shirt, and set my sights on the stop sign just across the further busy intersection. Half an hour later, I was there; I was dripping with sweat, without a water bottle, and heartbroken to know there was no shuttle back to my front door. As I turned around and shuffled back to my house, I wondered what I had been thinking. However, by the time I hurled myself, panting, onto our hardwood floors, desperate for something cooling, I felt a twinge of something great: pride. With this inkling of a feeling, I got back out there the next day, and the following day, and eventually, had made it a habit. By the end of the summer, I felt confident enough in my new hobby to get a new pair of running shoes to make it official.
In retrospect, starting running in the deepest part of the summer was a bold choice. The heat was oppressive; my naivete as to hydration was dangerous; and my inspiration was conspicuously absent. In spite of it all, though, I continued on with it, even after my move back to Austin. I knew I had to set a goal for myself, though, if this trend were to persist. So, I signed up for the 3M Half Marathon at the end of January in 2010. I had about twelve weeks before race day so, naturally, I thought: "Perfect! I'll just increase my weekly mileage by a mile and voila! I'll be ready!" Had I increased my long run by one mile each week, I likely would have been fine. However, being the overachiever I tend to be, I increased each run during each week by one mile. By Week 7, I found myself walking down stairs backwards and wincing when I crossed my legs. Something was wrong. I did a little bit of research and realized that if I intended to finish the 3M Half Marathon, which I did, I had to stop running. So, I did. I didn't run until race day. My anxiety the days leading up to the race were comical and all-consuming. In fact, I didn't sleep a wink the night prior. In spite of it all, I toed the start line, a toasted English muffin smeared with peanut butter nestled in my stomach, and started running. And I kept running, even when my hips, knees, and ankles started to scream: "What are you doing?! Didn't we make ourselves clear a month ago?! We're not on board with this whole 'running' thing! Stop it this instance!" I, politely, told them to "hush!" and continued on to the finish line. I am proud to say I ran the entire thing, and promptly cried upon getting my finisher's medal. It was an entirely overwhelming experience and one I'm not sure I'll have again. The 13.1 mile distance was so unattainable to me; it seemed like a ridiculous and unending expanse of space to traverse, and on foot, but I did it. I kept moving; I kept running; I kept my focus and traversed that 13.1 miles, all on my own. For the first time in a year and a half, I had a tangible result from my efforts that law school simply hadn't been able to provide.
While my pride and excitement leading me to continue on this road, my pains and injuries were propelling me to a new venue entirely: trails. My brother had been running trails, and unfathomable distances, for quite some time at this point. I was, and remain, amazed by him, but I wasn't sure trails and those silly distances were for me. At the same time, I knew (1) I didn't know what I was doing at the moment and (2) I had to change something. At his recommendation, I went out and purchased the one and only pair of shoes in my entire shoe closet that has single-handedly (footedly?) changed my life: New Balance 101s, a minimalist trail shoe. Within a few days, I was meeting Kyle at the Hill of Life trailhead for my first trail run. I can't quite remember how far we ran that day, but I do know that it was one of the most enlightening runs to date. Everything was natural, smooth, and fun! In short, I was hooked immediately. Within a month, I had signed up for my first two trail races: the Nueces 25K and the Hell's Hills 50K. Being the non-mathematically inclined person that I am, I didn't bother to determine the mileage either of these races entailed. I was rattled when my brother's response to my "If you're not careful, I'll be running some of 'ultras' with you sometime soon!" comment was: "You're an idiot. You just signed up for one."
And thus, I set off on a new trail with no idea where it would lead me.
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