When I was a kid there were few words I dreaded more than “The Mile.” Once a quarter our teachers would drag us out to the field and make us all run four laps around the track.
I hated The Mile for so many reasons. It hurt my legs, my lungs, and I’d get this crippling cramp in my side. And I was ALWAYS the last to finish, dragging myself across the finish line after the 15 minute mark. It was the worst.
I used to think there were two kinds of people in the world. Those who loved running and sports, and those who would be happy to never lace a pair of sneakers again. I was more than happy to spend the entirety of my life in the latter group, chilling on the sidelines cheering on the bizarrely energetic athletes.
Fast forward 20 years and I consider my workouts one of the most precious and essential parts of my day. I love lifting weights, maximizing my heart rate, and pushing myself to new physical limits.
What caused me to change teams? Did I just wake up one morning and decide to like the gym? Of course I would have loved that, but it isn’t what happened.