How an Ice-Cold Basement Transformed Me Into a Long-Distance Runner

Shortly after we were married, my wife and I moved from Midvale to South Jordan, Utah, to get closer to school. I recently started working from home at the time, and this new place had the perfect spot for my at-home desk setup. It was close enough to school and was in a nice little neighborhood. The basement apartment seemed like a match made in heaven.

About a week or so into living there, I began to notice a glaring issue with the home. It was freezing. Like literally freezing. Like multiple jackets at all times freezing. Like use a space heater in the summer freezing. I quickly realized I had to figure out a way to warm up during my 8-hour work shift each day. Long hours sitting in the ice-cold basement grew unbearable so I began to take my lunch breaks in my car in the driveway. After that lost its fun, I started walking around my neighborhood when I got too cold. I walked the same streets every day and quickly became bored of that too. I'm not quite sure why, but I had the bright idea to start running each day.

Thinking back, I never would have envisioned myself as a runner. I played sports growing up but never found something that stuck with me. My parents have always been involved in endurance sports. I have fond memories of waiting for them to cross the finish lines at their various races and cheering them on while they diligently trained throughout the week. Despite all of this, I never felt the urge to run myself. I never thought that physically exerting myself for hours at a time would bring me any measure of joy that it ended up bringing me.

When I began running, it felt like my lungs were on fire, and my legs were moving through the sand. It took everything in me to run just a couple of miles each day. Even though my apartment felt like Antarctica, it was still difficult for me to work up the motivation to get out the door each day. I was able to connect with my mom and asked her if it would ever get easier. She assured me that it would and that I just needed to stick with it.

Little by little, day after day, I started to notice a change in myself. Getting out the door each day to run wasn't as much of a challenge, and it even started to become something that I began to look forward to. My body began to adapt as well. I began tracking my runs using my watch and I started getting faster and faster with each week I ran. I started ramping up my weekly mileage and even signed up and completed my first marathon. I had officially caught the running bug.

I am not sure what the qualifications are for officially referring to oneself as "a runner," but I do know that I love the way that running has made me feel. What started as a way to escape a frigid basement has blossomed into a newfound hobby that occupies many hours of my week. Three marathons and hundreds of daily runs later, I have grown to love the process of watching myself slowly become better at something. I am forever grateful for running and the lessons that it has taught me.