You know who they are. Runners. You know them when you see them, because like me, you’re probaly hatin’ on them when they catch your eye. Body in motion, headphones jacked into iPods, eyes fixed on the road less travelled (by you). Yes. Those are the cats I’m talking about. I say everyone hates on people who run, because they always seem to be running away from the days drama and racing towards adventure or at least doing something you’re not. It’s natural to hate on them for this simple fact! Even wifey (who I affectionally dubbed 8-mile because she gets her mileage on daily with ease — 8 miles daily) would catch my assassins look if I saw her runnin’.

All that changed this week because I have joined the Runaways. My pace ain’t hardly fast and my distance can’t really be considered distance! (I run just over a mile to the gym), but, I’m out there doing it and I get there and back to camp. The whole format is crazy. Both wifey and I rock the Nike+iPod kits to track the science and the mathematics which leaves me to target the road ahead.

I’ve been out a couple of times now and I am able to tune everything out for a hot minute or two and then it’s quiet and i’m running! My breathing is on point, my footsteps are aiight and the music on the Nano jives me along. Sometimes I shadowbox like a boxer doing roadwork (holdup, I AM a boxer doing roadwork). After the first day I heard Lance Armstrong in my ear congratulating me on my longest run yet. It was crystal clear why I immediately wanted to gut-check anyone I saw running — they were achieving their goal with every sole laid to pavement.

Footstep assurances pound like money in the bank. Right now I’m a stockbroker making that long dough on the road of life and the vibe is official like a referee with a whistle! Americas most hated. I’ll see you when I see you. Gotta run!