On the 14th day God said, "Let that fatass run!"

Not once in the time that I had known her had I ever seen Michelle nervous or shy.  She's the kind of person who wears her opinions and feelings loudly on her sleeves.  She's the kind of girl that will walk up to an overdressed woman at a bar and tell her "Girl, your tata's are amazing, let those girls breathe a little!"  That night I remember how she struggled to keep eye contact.

We were at work, lounging in the Intensive Care Unit with the usual nursing staff when she approached me.

"There's this thing I want to try out," her eyes kept darting around at the other three or four people in the small breakroom but me, "I can find someone else but was wondering if you'd be interested.  I want to try a half-marathon with this fund-raising group.  They meet in a couple weeks for newbies"

At that point, I wasn't into running.  Let me rephrase that, I despised it.  I was pushing 245-250, loved food, played a lot of video games, and would rather have been belly up to a bar with a cold drink in my hand chatting with anyone that was near.  I slept in every weekend and used the excuse that I worked long nights to keep from going out on during the week.

In short, I dismissed the idea.  "'Chelle, if you can't find anyone in two weeks, I'll do it."

I figured with her personality, she'd find someone who was way more athletic than me.  There were plenty of people who worked at our hospital that were marathoners, triathletes, health nuts.

Two weeks passed.  I had never given the question so much as a fart in the dark let alone any thought whatsoever.

That Tuesday night, 'Chelle approached me a second time. 

"Mannie, the meeting is this Thursday."

Shit.

Being a person of my word, I went.

The group was Team In Training.  The plan was you helped raise funds for the The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, in turn, a portion of those funds went to your entry fees, hotel accommodations, training with their group, and advice from their vast well of experience in the sports, be it a half or full marathon, bike race, or even a triathlon.  The locations they had their events at were all over the country, from Florida to Hawaii, there was a sport somewhere for anyone and all distances.

We chose the White Rock marathon in Dallas as it was one of the events that called for the least amount of funds to be raised since it was so close to home.  She chose to walk, I chose to run.

Why did I choose running?  Looking back, it equated to equal parts stupidity, machismo, and 'Chelle was cute. If I could use this as an angle to get to know her a little better then what the hell.

The next few months we trained with the group every Saturday.  We went to any meetings we could to hear speakers tell of their experiences racing trying to get as much knowledge about what we were going to undertake.

I never met my fundraising goal and because I had blindly hoped to make the funds somehow, it never occurred to me to register for the race on my own.  'Chelle almost made hers, but past injuries were beginning to catch up with her and were keeping her from recovering quick enough after long training days.  The race came and went.

By this point I had built myself up to running 7-8 miles every morning after work, and having a long run every Saturday for 3 hours, hitting almost 13 miles.  I had lost weight, I was in better health, and had kept the running habit going as it seemed that 'Chelle was living vicariously through me.  At work, she'd ask how far I was planning on running that day, where in town I was going to go.  "If I see you when I'm driving I'll honk and cheer you along from my car."

I turned to running on trails and stayed off roads the day I almost got hit by a car.  I remember turning down a side street near the campus early one Sunday morning.  There wasn't much traffic in the area, just the few students, who weren't hungover, running errands.  I was paying so close attention to the ground that the car seemed to materialize out of nowhere.  They came so close I could feel the drivers-side rear view mirror brush my elbow and the rush of the air as the car sped off.  The ass had the nerve to flip me off as they kept on.

Once on the trails, it became a natural progression to run for longer periods of time.  The pavement had always been brutal on my knees and back to the point that after long mornings there were times when my knees and ankles would be so swollen I would spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on my couch.  That never happened on the dirt.

With 'Chelles eager persuading, I began to go out farther and longer.  The farthest I had ever run was 32 miles in about 6-7 hours.  That's about the time I heard about the events known as Ultra Marathons and have carried the carrot on my back ever since.

Whenever it comes up, I openly blame Michelle.  I joke with her that she started me down this long road of addiction.  Before the conversation ends, though, I thank her.