The Secret to Almost Everything

A true story about running. And not about running at all.

Today was the day.

It's been about six months since we moved. Out west. To altitude. In Colorado.

I've been trying to get back into my running. And failing.

But today, I ran the full four miles I've been targeting. Without walking. Or falling out of breath.

First time since we moved to altitude.

It could have been the couple of hill workouts I did over the past two weeks.

It could have been the (very) few pounds I've lost recently.

More likely, today was just the day.

The day the miles added up to something significant.

I ran. And I could breathe. And I'm looking forward to the next one. Which I haven't been for a long time.

And... I've been helping a friend. Who started running. He knew I had a background in the sport and asked if I'd mind offering my opinion on a couple of things.

Of course I gave him my best advice.

But the thing that matters most is he wants to do it.

He enjoys getting out there for a trot. Or a canter. Not usually a gallop. And often some supplemental walking.

He treats it as a meditation. Or a prayer. It's been inspiring to me.

But he gets out there.

If not every day, almost every day.

And he asks me pretty specific questions about pretty specific training ideas.

And I give it to him.

And he improves. And plateaus. And improves. And fogs out, sometimes a little frustrated.

But he gets out there.

Again.

And what he doesn't realize is... that's the whole thing.

Getting out there. When you want to. When you don't. When you're energized. When you're tired, frustrated, or uninspired.

He talks about himself like he's not a real runner.

But he gets out there.

And he's a real-er runner than most of the real runners I know.

And he should be proud of that.

It's the getting out there that matters.

The consistency.

And that's the secret to almost everything.