Dodging Half Marathons and Embracing Progress
Confession Time: My Half-Marathon Misadventure
Back in October 2024, I did something wildly out of character. While visiting a friend for the weekend, I signed up for a half-marathon. Bold, right? Well, here we are a few months later, and I’m starting to think running said half-marathon might not be the brightest idea. How did we get here? Let’s hit rewind, lace up, and jog down memory lane, don’t worry, it’s a slow jog.
The Backstory
During that fateful visit, my friend and I made a grand pact to get healthy. We even threw in a wager: whoever lost the most body fat percentage by year’s end would get bragging rights and cold, hard cash. Sounds motivating, right? Well, my friend absolutely crushed it. His discipline was rock solid—truly something to admire—while mine was more like a sandcastle at high tide: quickly washed away.
Caught up in the excitement of reclaiming my health, I went all in and signed up for a half-marathon. Why? Because I’ve always had this itch to prove that if I could force myself through 13.1 miles, I could tackle anything. To those saying, “What about a full marathon?” Let’s not get carried away. Baby steps. Or better yet, dad steps. We don’t need to go Forrest Gump levels of running just yet.
The plan was simple: start with Peloton workouts for a month to ease my body back into moving, then transition to actual running. If this sounds like a foolproof strategy, it’s because it wasn’t. The holidays hit, the weather turned, and my daily walks with the pup became Netflix marathons instead of actual marathons. By year’s end, I was in worse shape than when the bet started.
Why I Think Running a Half-Marathon Is a Terrible Idea Right Now
In a word: knees.
Growing Up
When I say I was a former athlete, I mean it. I spent my youth bouncing from sport to sport before settling on football, the perfect outlet for a kid who liked running, hitting, and just being a general menace on the field. Football demands strength, so I started lifting weights early—like, really early. My dad got me my first gym membership at 12.
To be fair, I was less “serious athlete” and more “walking gym liability.” Within months, I managed to:
Get stitches after tripping over weights and smashing my elbow. It still gives me problems to this day.
Nearly paralyze myself by misusing an assisted pull-up machine. Picture me, a 12-year-old genius, cranking the weight to 400 pounds for “fun.” Let’s just say physics won, and I got flung off that thing faster than a dad dodging diaper duty. I landed on my neck. Membership nearly revoked. Dad furious. A chef’s kiss of bad decisions.
Despite my early gym mishaps, I developed a genuine love for leg day. Squats became my go-to, and by high school, I was stacking on weight—completely oblivious to the fact that I was putting my knees on the express train to early retirement.
My Knees Today
Fast forward to adulthood, and my knees are, well, 50 years old—according to an orthopedic surgeon. I discovered this fun fact while golfing of all things. Imagine being taken out by the least strenuous sport. Bending down to place a tee felt like someone stabbing my kneecap with a knife. Spoiler: it wasn’t my meniscus; it was arthritis. Severe arthritis.
Knowing this, I still thought signing up for a half-marathon was a good idea. Smart, right? But here’s the deal: while March isn’t realistic for my knees, I’m not giving up. My goal is to run a half-marathon by the end of the year. Why? Because I know that shedding weight and getting stronger will make a world of difference.
The Bigger Picture
This whole “getting healthy” thing is a journey, and so far in 2025, I’m enjoying it. I may not be running yet, but I’m moving. I’m learning. And I’m committed to becoming a healthier dad, one step at a time—even if those steps are currently more “power walk” than “sprint.”
If you’ve ever bitten off more than you could chew (hello, holiday cookies), you’re not alone. Let’s take this one day, one workout, one laugh at a time.