For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself.
~Haruki Murakami
Anyone with five kids will agree with me: It’s easy to find excuses to skip workouts. Back when Laurie and I were dating, I told myself, “I have a serious girlfriend. I want to spend all my time with her.” While we were engaged, all my spare time went into wedding prep — or emotionally supporting Laurie while she did all the wedding prep. Once we were married, I wanted to be home with my new wife. Then we started having kids, and spare time disappeared quickly.
In the blink of an eye, I was in my mid-thirties with five kids and I hadn’t worked out in over a decade. I didn’t consider myself overweight except at my annual physical when the doctor told me an average male of my age and height should weigh about 40 pounds less. “How would I lose this weight?” I wondered as I left these visits. I was almost relieved when, a few minutes later, I got a call from Laurie and got distracted by one or more of our kids needing to be picked up somewhere or needing a few things from the grocery store.
I justified my health and being out of shape with a sense of pride. I was a devoted husband and father who wanted to spend his time and money on the family and not on himself. Then I got a job at an office with a personal trainer, Rose, who gave group sessions during the lunch hour in a conference room that had been converted into a gym. There were treadmills, elliptical machines, and a set of dumbbells. So, with money and time no longer issues, I started working out two days a week.
It started slowly. I spent the session walking on the treadmill because I found it less grueling than lifting weights. After a few weeks, Rose adjusted the speed and incline so I was forced into some light jogging. I might have pushed back and lowered the settings, except she was so encouraging. If I had a good session, she said, “You’re doing great.” If I had a lousy session, she said, “Don’t get discouraged. Just keep showing up.”
I wanted to impress her, so I told her I wanted to beat a 10-minute mile.
“That’s a great idea!” she said.
On a dry-erase board, she tracked the time it took me to complete a mile each day. I memorized the speed settings and increased every day by a few seconds. A 15-minute mile became 14. Two minutes of jogging became four. At each session, Rose greeted me with a big smile and said, “How much are you gonna beat yesterday’s time by today?” I got inside 11 minutes and planned exactly which day I’d finally beat 10 minutes. When that day came, I felt so anxious I could barely eat breakfast or concentrate on work all morning. At the session, Rose gave me a big high-five. “Today’s the day!” she said.
I felt terrible throughout the run. It must have been my nerves. But I powered through. When I got to the final fraction of the mile, I accidentally pulled the emergency stop pin. Rose, my workout partners, and I all shared a collective groan. “Well,” Rose said, “you can try it again at our next session.”
Two days later, I couldn’t wait to hit the treadmill. I was ready. I was hungry. And when I hit the mile marker at 9:59, the gym erupted. I was so amped up I could have run another mile. Rose let me enjoy my victory for the rest of the session. Then at our next session, she said, “So how long will it take you to beat a nine-minute mile?”
“Are you insane?” I asked.
“Nope!” she said. “You can do it. Just keep training like you did for the 10-minute.”
I soon beat the nine-minute mile, and then the eight-minute. Perhaps my proudest accomplishment was that I continued to improve after I got a new job and stopped training with Rose. Laurie encouraged me to find a gym close to my new office and continue to work out during my lunch break. I frequently texted Rose my progress, especially when I beat a seven-minute mile, and ultimately a six-minute mile.
During this entire time, Laurie encouraged me constantly. She bought me Dri-FIT clothes and little workout tools to use at home. She noticed if I went more than a couple of days without a run. “Your mood is dropping,” she said. “Why don’t you go for a jog? You’ll feel better when you get home.”
Running and working out also became a way to bond with the kids. I took them with me to boot camps regularly. When I played football with my sons and the neighborhood kids, my boys told their friends to line up against me. Their friends clearly saw my gray hair and thought I wouldn’t be a problem, so I surprised them when I kept up. They told my sons, “Dang, your dad’s fast.”
“Yeah, he beats us all the time,” my sons said.
At my most recent physical, the nurse took my pulse and blood pressure. “I’m just curious,” she said. “Are you a runner?”
I was stunned. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Both your pulse and blood pressure are very low.”
I was so excited that I felt lightheaded. As soon as the nurse left the room, I frantically texted Laurie the news. “That’s great!” she responded. “You should treat yourself to something. Oh, you should get yourself something at the grocery store because we need a few things for dinner tonight.”
— Billy Cuchens —