I am definitely not as young as I once was. This past weekend, we ran the Crossroads 5K, and it was my first time running in a very long time. We had been training for months, but somewhere along the way, we switched from running to biking — mostly because the running was killing my knees and my wife was battling shin splints.
So, while our cardio was in pretty good shape, my legs were apparently not as ready as I thought they were. Biking builds endurance, sure, but as I’ve learned, it works your legs in a completely different way. And these last two days since the race have been a humbling reminder that I’m not twenty anymore. My thighs ache, my knees are stiff, and walking is… let’s just say, not exactly graceful right now.
Still, despite the soreness, I’m proud. Seven months ago, I would get winded just walking up the stairs at work. There’s no way I could have run a 5K back then. But now? Even with the pain, I feel better than I have in years. I’ve lost nearly 50 pounds, and my wife and I have been biking close to 10 miles, three times a week. It’s a complete change from where I was, and honestly, that pain I’m feeling — I’ve earned it.
There’s a phrase I heard often in the Army: “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.” I used to laugh at that. But today, I get it. Every ache, every sore muscle is proof that I’m pushing forward — that I’m getting stronger, even if my body likes to remind me that I’m not invincible anymore.
Don’t mistake this for self-pity, though. It’s not. What I feel is a strange mix of pride and regret — pride that I’m finally taking my health seriously again, and regret that I didn’t maintain it after leaving the Army. If I had kept even part of that discipline, maybe I wouldn’t be limping around right now. But better late than never.
No, I didn’t come close to winning. But I think the more important thing than winning was simply waking up that morning and deciding to do it. To cross that finish line. That’s the victory.
Next year, I plan to run it again — better prepared this time. I might even find a few more 5Ks to run between now and then. And come September, there’s a 30-mile bike ride in Abilene I’ve set my sights on. I may not win that either, but I’ll be there, giving it my best, and finishing no matter what.
I’ll end this post with one of my favorite short poems — one I first read in elementary school, but that still speaks to me all these years later:
“I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.”
— D. H. Lawrence
That’s what I want to be — not a man who feels sorry for himself, but one who keeps going, even when it hurts.
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