One foot in front of the next, repeat until your destination

Waking up at 5 AM and working out by most would be considered less than ideal.  Why the hell would you want to sacrifice an extra hour in bed to get up without eating, and start working out?

My earliest experience with this crazy routine happened when I was 17.   Winter and Spring 2005 was an awesome time.  The excitement of senior year football was on the horizon, summertime, football camps, the prime of our adolescent innocence.  I ran track in high school, majorly underachieved, but I still ran and had some fun.  I gave an honest effort as a sprinter, but I was a mid distance runner at heart.  No way could you tell me that in high school though.  I could always hold a pace that real sprinters could not.  My speed was average at best in 100-400 meter sprints.  Should have been my "ah ha moment."  The bigger goal on the horizon was committing to a strict weight training regimen during track season and aimed for a 405 squat by summer.  So that meant one thing, I had to lift before school.  

The night before my first morning workout, I was super nervous.  I had no idea how my blood sugar would respond without breakfast.  I laid my clothes out the night before and while anxious, I was excited and equally curious to see how I'd do.  It was squat and core day too, so I had some extra motivation.  I woke up, checked my sugar, had a cup of coffee ready (found that habit early on) and was loading the squat rack by 6:05.

I was surprised on all ends.  My energy was high, my lifts felt strong, and my sugar was high, like 250-300 post lift.  Nowadays I'd be very concerned because 95% of the time I never see those sugars, but in high school, sadly this was all too common.  I remember that whole morning just feeling good, real good.  I felt awake, I felt clear, I felt inspired.  I loved it.  

In college I had more free time to get a workout in during the afternoon, so my morning workouts past 2006 didn't kick start again until 2011-2012 when my professional life began.  In my mid 20's the early morning meathead sessions got replaced by fasted morning runs throughout my hometown. I ran along a peaceful and local favorite, River Rd.  I soaked in some epic sunrises along the river, and just thought, wow, this is amazing.  I'd run 3-4 miles and it felt like I was sprinting towards the finish in Boston upon completion.  That first morning run was euphoric.  It left me with a buzz that far surpassed any high school weight training.  I'll never downplay a date with the weight room, but a fasted morning run took me to a different place throughout my day.  That quiet time in the dark further enhanced my connection to running.  

I've lived a few different career lives since college graduation.  For a few years I gave the business world a try.  Truthfully, it wasn't my lane.  I felt as out of place as a lineman doing mile repeats with the XC team.  It was an honest effort but after 3 years, it was time for a change.  For all the headaches, I will always be thankful of the places it took me, literally and figuratively.  The opportunity to regularly travel and explore new places is cherished.  My running shoes joined me on every single trip I ever took.  Vegas Blvd, Fisherman's Wharf, Muir Woods, Zion, around Lake Michigan, Dallas, New York State Parks, and a few other quick stops.  

Of the many beautiful places I saw via business travel, San Fransisco will forever be near and dear to me.  It was a particularly rough stretch there in 2014 and when I learned I'd be west coast livin for three weeks throughout July and August, I didn't know what to expect.  I was placed into a prestigious yet, demanding, competitive and overwhelming sales academy amongst 20 plus sellers from across the country.  Each week we were graded and evaluated after a presentation to a board of executives, aiming to progress a "sale."  One could say the nerves were peaking.  

I knew my running shoes and gear were an absolute must for any chance of sanity.  I stayed in the Fisherman's Wharf region and was only one block up from the main drag.  While I enjoyed my first In-N-Out Burger, I scoped out some running routes and I felt at home amongst the eclectic SF crowd.  With my nerves at max levels the night before my first day of class, I awoke a few minutes before 5 AM, and adventured towards the city for a stress relieving run.  Closing in on the half hour mark, I saw the Bay Bridge in the distance with the night sky beginning to fade to daybreak.  The glow off the Bay was overpowering. I took my headphones off and did something I try to avoid by all means, stop running.  A minute had passed, and I was totally engulfed into the moment.  The debatable endorphins were flowing hard and I shifted my fear of the training to an adventure.  The moment with the Bay didn't happen by accident, I couldn't run from what was ahead.

Runners vary in skill, speed, and experience.  From the elites to the back packers, it's connection to our spirit is it's commonplace.  Whatever your routine and desires are with running, you get what you put into the art.  Some find their passion early on, some earn money from their legs, others do it just to find some balance in this crazy life.  I fall somewhere between finding sanity and a lifelong passion that I've built upon in the last handful of years.  My routine and desires from running have evolved. I don't aspire to run 80-100 miles a week, nor do I aspire for an Olympic qualifier, both are totally out of the realm of possibility.  I do know that I've found a strong coorelation to pushing my efforts with running and a carry over to a heightened, newfound perspective.  All you have to do is put one foot in front of the next, simple and life altering.  That's a promise.