As I was growing up, I set goals. I always believed if you set your mind to it, you can achieve it. I put my mind to many obstacles in my life, gave myself adequate time to achieve my goals and then set a plan for my next goal.
Walt, on the other hand, who was now running a lot, never got the memo on setting small goals and then building up to a larger goal. After 2 months of running, and remember, this is a man who never ran in his life and the most cardio he ever got was running from his car into the Powerhouse Gym in a dodgy area, had decided he was going to run a marathon in October, which was 4 months from then. Seriously? Ok, that is fine. Run your little heart out.
And that he did. From the onset, Walt put together a plan to train for his first marathon which was only 4 months away. I honestly, don't recall his specific regimen but from an early start, but I knew he was serious about it when he would say at the bar on a Friday night "I need to get to bed so I can run in the morning". Really? You have the whole day to run.
The moment, I knew he was serious about this marathon, was in July 1998, we were up north with our friends, Chris and Ed. Now, as any Michigander knows, when you use the words "up north for the weekend", it is really code word for "party time". Our first night consisted of several rounds of shot guns, of which I excused myself to the bathroom to puke and come back and finish the round, because no way would I go down for the count. And the night finished with a round of Challenge Chug Yahtzee, of which I don't remember how that ended. But what I do remember, the following painful morning, was Walt lacing up his shoes to go for a run. Are you kidding me? I thought I might need a saline drip and here was Walt, lacing up his shoes.
Now we were up north where there were no sidewalks, just wide open wilderness and Walt was going to take off into the wild blue yonder and run. How the hell would he be able to "gps" his route?
As Chris, Ed and I sat on the porch and watched Walt run and listened to the pounding in our heads, I knew, his man was serious. I recall him making a few laps and as he ran by, the peanut gallery would chant "Run Forest Run". As I would see Walt run by I would think to myself "he is crazy" but better he than me. I had no desire to go and exercise for just the sheer fact that I was overly dehydrated from the massive amounts of beer I consumed the night before, the dehydration sucked in my stomach enough, that I felt ok to put on a bathing suit. No running for me. You just keep running Forest all the way to your first marathon...
And on October , 1998, Walt ran his first marathon in . He crossed the finish line in a pair of cotton shorts and a "Cabo Wabo" t-shirt I was very proud. He did it! But the words he uttered as we walked back to the car, as he was wrapped in tin foil, would haunt him until this day. His comment would almost become his nemesis for I remind him every day; he has become his own worst nemesis. As Walt looked around, at all of the real runners, the people who wore aerodynamic shorts and shirts made of certain material that would allow your skin to breathe as well as protect it from the wind, who wore shoes that you had to buy at a running store and shock absorbing socks, Walt's very own words would become his own self-fulfilling prophecy. "Runners are so weird". Well, guess what Walt? YOU are a runner and YOU are weird!
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