Do you remember your first run?

I don’t mean your childhood PE class. If you’re a runner, do you remember the very first run that was — well — a run? A distinct memory of the discomfort of running. Or maybe it was semi-voluntary — say a friend dragged you out for a run. I have a story on the latter topic. When I was at university, my two close friends and I agreed to go for a run early in the morning. The plan was made while we were drinking beers in the evening. You know, when you drink, you come up with all kinds of ideas and plans; most never see the light of day. When my alarm rang in the morning, I went straight back to sleep. There was no way I was getting my ass out of bed. My friends thought differently. They actually showed up and banged aggressively on the door of my room until I had no choice but to join them. I couldn’t find my socks then and ended the run with terrible blisters.

However, it wasn’t my first run. I ran a bit during my boarding school years in England.

My first run happened in Oklahoma, of all places.

It was the winter of 1994–1995. I don’t remember the month. In 1994, at the age of fourteen, I was sent to study in the US as a foreign exchange student. From Moscow to Kansas to Oklahoma! I attended a summer language school in Wichita, Kansas, and then spent a year in Enid, Oklahoma, attending a local high school. I stayed with a host family.

I was an unathletic teenager, and it bothered me somewhat. I had no plans or opportunities to become ‘athletic,’ but I was aware of the health…