About 2 years ago ...

About 2 years ago, I was driving home from cottage country having dropped my daughter off at a friend's cottage. Instead of using the highways, I had decided to use the regional roads and listen to some music. Somehow, I ended up listening to a country station and they played a sappy song called "Live Like You Were Dying". Some guy learns that he is sick and when asked how he reacted, he says:

I went sky diving,

I went rocky mountain climbing,

I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.

...

Some day, I hope you get the chance,

To live like you were dyin'.

Even though the song is a bit of a cliche, on that day, for some reason, it made enough of a mark that I remember the moment clearly.

A few weeks later, I started running. Over the years, I've tried many times to become a runner but I've always have "good" reasons why I couldn't persevere. Injury, business, family; you know the drill. Well, no more. Injuries heal, business can wait a bit, the family can be without me for a few minutes (hours, days?). So I'm still running. I've become what I felt I was inside: a runner.

Now that I've gone to the dark side and started running ultras, few people outside of other ultra runners understand what it is I'm doing and why. It doesn't matter. Our culture of fear tells us that running will wreck your knees, damage your heart. Fuck them.

This is what I want to do. This is who I am. Running is my "Fu Man Chu".

When I look back, there must be no regrets.