How I started to run

technologist, designer, teacher

goochland, va

I bought an old house out in the country, not far from a two-lane road where cars move too fast for comfort. At first, I didn’t want to go near it. It didn’t feel like a place for walking. It felt like a place to get hit.

But there was this older dude. He walked that road every morning with his dog. I saw him often, and over time, something shifted. The road still felt dangerous, but less alien. He made it feel like it was okay to be there.

The man and his dog, walking every day.

Eventually, I gave it a try. I knew to walk against traffic. I stayed as far to the side as I could. In the summer, the weeds were high and the trees pushed in, which made it tricky when cars came flying around a curve. Still, I kept going.

There’s a gravel road that splits off from the main one. The first time I took it, I felt immediate relief. No cars. No rush. Just sky, fields, cows. It was quieter. I could breathe. I started walking that way every morning. A mile or so, round trip. No music, no podcasts, no phone. Just the rhythm of walking and the quiet of being alone.

The road less traveled.

After a while, I realized something was happening. I felt better on the days I walked. My mind cleared. I paid attention. I started to notice how things changed with the seasons… the trees, the light and shadow, the birds, the smell of the grass. The walk became a daily check-in. A kind of moving meditation.

One day, near the end of winter, I ran. Not far. Not fast. Just a burst, right after I cleared the worst part of the road. I was out of breath quickly, but something about it felt right. So I did it again the next day. I picked two signposts along the gravel road, about an eighth of a mile apart, and decided I would always run that stretch. Every day. There and back.

I made it a thing. When I passed each signpost, I’d throw my arms up and shout “Yes!” Sometimes people saw me. I didn’t care. It felt good to celebrate doing something hard.

One of the signposts. I've always wondered: why 14 mph?

Over time, those short runs grew longer. Eventually, without planning it, I ran from the start of my walk all the way to the turnoff. And then I just kept running. I still took breaks, but less often. And then one day, I didn’t need the breaks anymore.

These days I run two miles almost every morning. It’s not about speed. It’s not even really about fitness, though I can feel myself getting stronger. It’s just something I do. A ritual. A way to start the day with presence, with effort, with something that feels real.

And today I just finished my first 5K. From where I began, it took about 3 years to get here but I did it really slowly and found a way to keep moving the signposts. I am proud of it. There is so much more road around here I can run on, many cool areas to explore.

There’s probably a metaphor buried in all of this, but I don’t need to spell it out. This is just the story of how I started walking, then started running.

And now it’s part of who I am.