Exactly a year ago now, I was half asleep on a couch in an AirBnB motel with a busted leg in Wells, Maine. My leg was throbbing, half from a tiny stress fracture above my ankle and half from the effort of hobbling around in a giant plastic boot. The boot was sort of like a cast for my left foot that could be velcroed on and off for sleeping and showering. My doctor gave me the thing to keep me from walking on my busted leg. It didn’t work. Simply put, I was motivated to move and I could not be stopped.
I was visiting Maine that weekend to watch my buddy Liam run his first official marathon, the Maine Coast Marathon. The race is beautifully located right off the beach in Wells with the starting line placed idyllically at the end of a peninsula surrounded by beautiful beach houses on all sides. Unfortunately, this location made getting to the starting line very difficult. When we reached the point where cars could go no further, I set about hobbling down the half mile or so to try and catch Liam at the starting line. I made it maybe halfway before I heard the distant cheers and the wave of runners began to pass me. It was totally unlike the marathons I had seen in New York or Boston. Absent the massive crowds of cheering onlookers, this procession of runners was strangely serene. With nothing but the quiet sounds of lapping surf and sea air, the runners trudged forward in relative silence, smiling and focused on their singular task. I leaned against a fence and quietly watched them pass.
I eventually did see my friend and cheered him along. Then I faced the prospect of a long hobble home. The race soon passed me entirely, and a line of cars from the starting line began to form along the beach road. I held my thumb up to all of them, and somebody did end up taking pity on me and let me catch a ride. As fate would have it, it was actually an old friend from high school that picked me up (Alex Brovenov, if anyone remembers). He had his sweet old dog in the back seat for me to sit with. With his help and the help of some other friends in my company, I eventually made it back to the AirBnB and slept through pretty much the whole rest of the race. I then grabbed the Downeaster back to Boston and went off to NYC where I lost my wallet.
I distinctly remember not being able to sleep at all the night before Liam’s race. Besides the pain, I was stressed out about my leg. I was googling symptoms frantically, drafting emails to my doctor, and generally freaked out that I was doomed to a life of random minor injury that would prevent me from pursuing the active life that I had begun to dream about. I was a hobbling mess, and a pessimistic part of me thought I’d never recover. I hadn’t broken a bone before or anything like that, so I was unacquainted with the incredible power of the human body to heal itself. I was very naive about the body in general.
At a certain point in middle school I forswore movement for brain work, and I know now that this was a terrible mistake. The rewards of fitness are hard to describe but plain to see. You look good, you feel good, and you can tackle anything life throws your way. So many of my problems– hyperactivity, sleeplessness, depression, obesity– were symptoms of a lifestyle that denied my body its drive to move and play. After witnessing the Maine Coast Marathon, I dedicated myself to movement!
I started small. I did the stretches that the doctor told me to do to help build strength in my feet. I went out and bought a brand new pair of shoes with some cushion but not too much (this helped me more than anything else, I think). I started walking, and then by mid summer I tried running a mile. I started running a mile every day. I got a job as a letter carrier for the USPS and really started adding miles to my days. I’d come home from work and do a little running, and then I’d just relax. Like actually relax– watch TV or basketball or play games. Eating felt deserved. Sleep came very easily.
By December, I had lost 40 pounds and ran my first half marathon informally along the Cambridge promenade. I also had a fleeting romance with a woman from Al Salvador. The heart needs sustenance too. It was a magical Christmas season. Around this time, I set my sights on the ultimate challenge– a full marathon, 26 miles of running. I was going to run the Boston Marathon in April, my legs be damned. I quit the USPS sometime in February and dedicated myself to chilling and running, though I will admit I did a little too much chilling and not nearly enough training. Winter is a hard time for movement, I know that now more than ever. For the first time in my life, I desperately waited for the thaw. We got an honest to god winter in Boston for once.
Well, the snow did melt, as it always does, and I ran the Boston Marathon on April 21st, 2025. My quads were like cement afterwards and I could barely walk more than a hobble. But this time I knew I would recover and be stronger for it. I can do absolutely anything! I slept for two days and ate anything I could get my hands on. In no time at all, I emerged from my room to find a blooming world rife with flowers and bees. The sky was so blue it hurt to look at.
They weren’t kidding– eating right and getting plenty of exercise carries miraculous health benefits. My brain, now supported by a strong body, is capable of dreaming again. Pessimism feels increasingly childish to me. As people, we are capable of achieving so much in very little time. Those who can, should, to support those who cannot.
One year later, and I am back in Wells watching Liam run again. He is doing a half this time with his girlfriend– after multiple marathons and an ultra, he has nothing to prove to anybody and can run at his leisure. The weather is wet, but rain has so far spared us. A great fog descended from the sea to enshroud the starting line in clouds. I decide to jump into the race with him at one point and crank a few miles. I do some shopping too.
In a single year, I have achieved things that I thought impossible. I’m going to pivot now to strength training and see if I can’t sculpt a physique capable of winning the adoration of a beautiful woman. And maybe I’ll see you at the Boston Marathon next year!