Seahawks Are Back in the Super Bowl

Growing up, I HATED running. I cannot put enough emphasis on this. Whenever it would be time for conditioning in baseball, I felt a knot in my stomach. It was my most hated activity. Do not get me started on running the mile in elementary school and middle school. I do not think I felt more fear than when I knew that was coming. If you told 12-year-old Mac that he would run 26.2 miles TWICE and love running, he would think that he grew up into a freak.

But I love running now.

I never thought I would be a runner, but one day this all of a sudden changed. I was getting off of the metro in Washington DC, and when I was getting off, this ad was glowing in my face. I remember it vividly—it was this bright pink and yellow ad that said “Run the DC Half Marathon.” I had never thought about running as a workout. My workouts consisted of lifting heavy weights up and down. Forget cardio. In this moment, something clicked. No longer did I hate running; running was going to become my new hobby. I was going to become a runner because of this cartoon-looking advertisement. Maybe I am just susceptible to advertisements, which is true, but in the moment, I changed where I was going and went directly to the running store.

I walked in and said, “I would like a new pair of running shoes.” They started to ask me all these questions about support, my arch, and any areas I felt pain while running. I had no answers to any of their questions. All I wanted was the best overall pair of running shoes they had. They gave me a pair of On Cloudmonster, and little did I know that would be my designated running shoe to this very day.

I got back to my apartment and told everyone about this new epiphany I had. I was going to run a half-marathon! I was so excited I changed into workout clothes, put on my new shoes, and stepped outside.

It was a very warm and humid D.C. day. Tourists everywhere. I stretched a little bit, just moving around a bit awkwardly, and once I felt good, I looked down at my watch, selected outdoor run, and pressed start.

I felt so weird the first couple of steps. I felt everyone was looking at me as I huffed and puffed down the street. I could not remember the last time I really ran. I had set a goal for myself to run 4 miles. I worked out; I could run 4 miles.

Nope.

I got a quarter of a mile away from my house, and I was already out of breath. I stopped running and looked around and thought, how the hell am I supposed to run 13 miles if I can only run a quarter? I walked a bit, let myself catch my breath, and then started running again. I made it a bit further than last time but still not at a mile down. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought it would.

Each month I got faster and stronger. My aerobic capacity was increasing a lot, but 13 miles felt very daunting still. I ended up missing the registration period for the DC half marathon in September because my training just was not there. I kept pushing and signed up for a small race in May. This was it. I was going to beat this.

Morning of the race, I felt ready. I had trained so much, watched so many YouTube videos—I knew I was going to conquer this run. I had not looked at the route of the race, but it’s DC; it cannot be that hard of a race.

I drove up to the race. Put my running shoes on, packed my running vest with gels, water, and Advil. I made sure my bib was securely on, and I was ready to go. As I was walking up, I looked around and saw that there were a lot of people and that this race did not look like it was a loop but instead an out and back.

I HATE OUT AND BACKS.

Great. I get to run my first race on my favorite kind of route! Well, there was no turning around now. I got to the line and BOOM. They shot off the starter pistol, and off we went. I was running with a friend, and we started off way too strong. Going way faster than the pace I felt I could complete the race at, but I wanted to stay with my friend, so I kept going.

This race was about 6.55 miles out and 6.55 miles back on a gravel trail in the woods. You saw the same thing on either side the entire time. Not a big race, so not a lot of cheering going on. Everything was going okay until about mile 5, where I started freaking out. How have we not reached the turn around point? I was seeing people run past me back towards the start line. I swore we should be at the starting point, but I guess not. I kept pushing through and finally got to the turn around point. Thank god. As we were turning back, the friend I was running with reached into a running belt he had and pulled out a vape.

I was in SHOCK. I was dying and felt that I couldn’t breathe, and this man is vaping! Very impressive, to say the least.

We stayed together, and with 2 miles left, he pulled away from me, and I was running by myself on this gravel trail with not a lot of people around. I felt I was in hell. Just running on this endless road for the rest of eternity. I was running then walking then running. At some point, I was able to turn my brain off, and I just zoned out thinking just left, right, left, right. One step after another. In a matter of seconds, I looked up and I saw the end.

Thank god. This had been awful. My hip was throbbing, my foot was numb. This shit sucked. I crossed the finish line, got my medal, and saw my girlfriend waiting with donuts.

I really needed those. I said hi to her and started putting down the donuts.

She asked me how it was. I said, “I want to run a marathon.”

This was the first thought I had. I had never thought about this before, but I guess I was going to run a marathon.

A year later, I ran the Berlin Marathon, and the year after that, I ran the Marine Corps Marathon, and I still want to run more. All thanks to a silly cartoon ad in the Washington DC Metro.