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And So It Began...

I started running at the ripe old age of thirty-six. My first run was torture.


One Mile. That is how it all started. As the treadmill made it’s easy and circuitous loop, I sweated, coughed, wheezed, and cursed my way through 5,280 feet. And just like that, I was hooked.


Rock and Roll was my life. For seven years I lived, breathed, consumed and used just as you would expect a rock star should. While the fun quotient was large during those seven years, my body paid the piper for all of it. More like saved the high price of admission in the form of fat, carcinogens and overall lack of any form of fitness. So, when that life ended at the old age of twenty-seven, I was making the leap into the real world behind the proverbial eight ball.


The jump in professions to working in a bar after rock stardom seems cliché because it is. But, there I was, living in Manhattan working at a bar in the East Village. As a bar employee in the city that never sleeps, you could imagine that my life pretty much stayed on the same course as it was prior just minus the glitz, glamour and tour bus. After some time and a bit of happenstance, I met a woman and moved to Seattle, Washington. This is where a major fork in the road takes the story in a new direction.


Every person in Seattle seems to live some form of an active lifestyle. “Hiked this,” “climbed that,” “skied here,” “biked everywhere,” except the majority of the people that work in the restaurant business. A new girlfriend at the time was not one of those restaurant workers that led a sedentary life in any way, shape or form. The new girlfriend and I had similar schedules, which means we rarely saw one another. Regardless of my current state of physical fitness, which was still below zero, the aforementioned girlfriend suggests I come to the gym and run on the treadmill, where she would welcome the eye-candy. Flattery will get you everywhere…. even on to a treadmill!


And now we come back to the beginning. One fateful day when I was coerced with flattery to do one mile on a treadmill that seemed to mock me with each rotation. Through running, I found I could motivate others just like I had with my lyrics. I hope to document the trials, tribulations, sorrow as well as the joys, elation, and accomplishment that started after a thirty-two-year-old out of shape bartender was objectified by a former girlfriend and set on a path that would end up being fifty miles long, all because of One Mile.

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© 2019 by Benjamin Perri

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