I never identified as a runner.
Or an athlete. Or someone who would ever step foot in a gym.
I worked in tech as a software engineer. That was my identity.
March 2020
When the world shut down, I thought I'd be fine with remote work.
No commute. More focus time. Efficiency.
Instead, I got isolation. Redundant days. A lack of normal routines that I didn't realize I needed.
2021
My first daughter was born.
I should have been the happiest I'd ever been. In many ways, I was.
But I was also dealing with depression and anxiety that had been building since the isolation started.
The days blurred together. I was present physically, but mentally I was somewhere else—stuck in my own head, overwhelmed, exhausted.
I needed something to change.
Starting small
That year, I started running.
Not because I wanted to be a runner. Because I needed to clear my head.
I started gradual and slow. Three miles. I focused on finishing, not on time.
It was hard. But I felt great after.
A few months later, I added lifting. Injury prevention, bone density, fat loss—all the practical reasons. But really, I just wanted to feel strong again.
My grandma
Around this time, I learned my grandma had started running in her 50s. Eventually, she ran marathons.
That story stuck with me: it's never too late to start and be healthy.
I wasn't some high school track star. I didn't grow up athletic. But maybe that didn't matter.
What actually changed
The benefits didn't show up overnight.
Over time, I noticed:
Stress relief - Running gave me an outlet. A way to process the weight I was carrying.
Focus - My ability to concentrate at work improved. The afternoon brain fog lifted.
Cognitive performance - I felt sharper. Less mental fatigue. My body felt strong. Yes, endorphins and all the other clichés too. But it was real.
Running also gave me goals. Something to work toward. Half marathons came later. Eventually, a full marathon.
But the real benefit wasn't the medals—it was the clarity.
Dad hours
These days, I wake up at 5am.
I run 3-4 times a week. Lift 3 times a week.
I get it in before my two daughters wake up.
I'm not perfect. Life as a full-time employee, husband, and father of two doesn't leave room for perfection.
But I've learned that consistency matters more than perfection. If you fall off, you get back up.
I was inspired by the "dad hours" content out there—Brent Richards and others who showed me it's possible to make time for yourself and still show up for your family.
Labels are hard. I don't know if I'd call myself a "runner" even now.
But I'm proud of what I can do.
What I wish I'd known
In March 2020, I wish someone had told me this:
You can be active, present, and engaged with your kids while performing better at your job.
Make time for yourself and your family, and your work will improve as a result.
For a long time, I was too wrapped up in my identity as a software engineer. I thought that was who I was.
But I'm more than that. And so are you.
If you're struggling
Maybe you're isolated. Maybe you're a new parent. Maybe you're just stuck in a cycle that feels impossible to break.
You don't have to become a runner. You don't have to wake up at 5am.
But you do need something. Some way to step outside your own head. Some routine that reminds you that you have a body, not just a brain.
Start small. Three miles. A walk. Ten minutes.
It's never too late.
If you're interested in learning more about run coaching or tech career coaching, reach out. I'd love to help.