
The story
I was the slow kid.
I grew up overweight. At my heaviest I was 215 pounds at 5'7", the slowest one on every field I ever played on, and I believed what that felt like: that my genetics were bad and I was built to be heavy. Running a mile wasn't a goal. It wasn't even a thought.
I dropped 60 pounds and got into lifting, and I looked like someone in shape. I wasn't. A flight of stairs still had me breathing hard. Lifting fixed how I looked; it didn't touch the engine.
Then one afternoon I was watching the Boston Marathon on TV and couldn't get past one question: how are these people running that fast, for that long?
The next morning I went out to run a mile. Eleven-minute pace, heart rate pushing 190, and I stopped at 0.87. I didn't finish it. I was also hooked. I ran the next day, and the day after that, and I didn't stop. A first half marathon. Then I hired a coach, went all in, and decided to find out how fast I could actually run a marathon.
The answer so far is 3:12, and I'm not done. But somewhere in there the goal changed. Now it's helping people who started where I started get there faster than I did, without the two years of guessing.