* * * * *I've had the year 2005 on my mind. About five years ago this very month my brother Matt got home from his mission. Some cousins from Utah came to visit for the occasion. I don't remember how we got on the subject but I remember my cousin Greg talking about how he had recently run a marathon. How long was a marathon, I asked. 26.2 miles. I decided that night that I was going to run a marathon.
A month later I ran my first race, a 10K, on Thanksgiving. My time wasn't that great, but I finished, and I felt great doing it.
Though I didn't realize it at the time, I started running to set myself apart from my friends and family. Sports never interested me in high school though I come from a family of athletes -- actually, a family of runners. But most of the running they did/do involves running short distances while jumping over hurdles. At the time, a 10K -- 6.2 miles -- was farther than anyone in my family had run.
Around the same time and not long after, some of my good friends got engaged and married. And they were farther ahead of me in school. I had to do something to catch up. I started running.
Speaking of marathons, here we are after watching all six Star Warses in one sitting, December 26, 2005. Man, I loved those pants. (This photo has nothing to with this post, other than it was taken in 2005. I didn't feel like digging out my external hard drive for a more relevant photo.)
One morning, a week after running my first 10K, I ran eight miles (well, it was probably closer to nine). Later that day I remember talking to this girl I had an enormous crush on and she was impressed that I had ran so far (which was also another great motivator for running).
The next day I could barely walk. Bad, worn out running shoes and overtraining had caused a stress fracture in my left foot. This was unfortunate because xyzebra had a show that night. And it spelled doom for my newly acquired running habit, for the time being.
This all happened during 2005.