Running, considered.

The allure of my favorite sport. Also, a shirtless picture.

I recently read this NY Times article about the proliferation of running clubs.

Running clubs have been on my mind the last few years. Here in Charleston I founded a run club with a close friend a few years ago - we call ourselves Nice Guys Run Club. Guys AND girls are welcome.

Nice Guys Run Club in action.

The two of us started running together during COVID, and the combination of exercise and socializing was nice. I had only ever been a solo runner before that. Our runs bled into cycling, which led to swimming, and to a shared training regimen in preparation for a half Ironman we completed together.

While the club takes a break during the high heat of Charleston summers, we are reconvening with the cooler temperatures of late. Our weekly runs meet Saturday morning for a 10-mile trot from downtown Charleston to Sullivan’s Island. It’s usually capped with a cold beer at an Irish pub on the island, recapping the struggles of our morning adventure.

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Running has given me more than I ever imagined. I grew up playing sports. Though I was athletic-ish, I didn’t excel at anything. At 15 I joined a gym after my brother called me fat. I was hell bent on proving him wrong. An older friend took me under his wing and taught me how to lift weights.

Shirtless picture!

At the gym I ran on a treadmill for the first time. The challenge of running longer and faster appealed to my nature. I loved the Sisyphean task of running - no end in sight, just an opportunity to get better over time. And to shove it in my brother’s face, of course.

I ran sporadically through high school and even joined our Cross Country team in college (evidence below). It was a small school - anyone who wanted to run could do so. But it gave me a physical challenge, and a regimen that impacted other parts of my life. You can’t party too hard on Friday if you’re due on a bus at 6am the next day to head to a meet.

Post college I fit in long sessions before my shift managing a restaurant in Louisville, KY. I felt unstoppable - as any runner can attest, nothing gives you energy like a run. If you’re tired, take a run. It takes your energy and returns it tenfold.

A couple of years later I quickly moved to Charleston, SC, where I was expecting a newborn son, the long-term prospect of a very short-lived fling.

In Charleston, my running and physical fitness evaporated. I was a single dad, trying to start over in a new town. I gained weight. I felt terrible. I was working long hours at a restaurant, taking care of my son on the weekends, fueled on Diet Coke. It was a difficult period. I couldn’t afford to live alone, and I wasn’t allowed to bring my son to a house with roommates. My time with him was spent in parks and playgrounds. I would change his diaper at Starbucks. He would take his naps in my car, often in the parking lot of Kids R’ Us, where we would hang on a rainy day.

I loved my son dearly, but it felt like the vision I had for my life had disintegrated.

Around that time my mom passed along some incredible advice. “You’re only one workout away from a good mood.” She’d read this little adage somewhere and passed it along to me when I really needed it. I remember this moment so clearly. The next day I bought running shoes and took my first run in years. It was a slog. It felt like my body forgot all the good I had ever done for it. I was starting back at zero.

I was driven by more than being a fast runner, completing a race, or vanity. (Although, I’ll be honest, vanity has sustained me at times.) I would be a success so my son could see in me the possibilities for himself. I would will myself to win. It would start with running. If I ran in the morning, I’d feel good all day. I would eat healthier, and I would avoid going out at night. I started sleeping better, feeling more focused, and my ability to cope with stress improved. I even gave up my beloved Diet Coke, cold turkey. The running seemed to clarify so many things.

This period was followed by a promotion at the restaurant where I was working. And then another. I ran in the mornings, before each shift. If I couldn’t fit it in, I’d run at night. Soon after that I launched my first business, Jack Rudy Cocktail Co. I worked on the business in the evenings after work - there were times I would pack boxes until 2 or 3 in the morning.

In the next decade a lot happened. Jack Rudy grew, and it grew some more, and it eventually became big enough to allow me to work for myself. I used the earnings from that business to invest in my first restaurant. I was lucky enough to find some great business partners. Other restaurants followed. I started writing more. I launched other businesses. I traveled more. I invested in other’s projects. I bought real estate. I got married, and had another beautiful son. I started a business with my wife.

All I’ve got, I owe to that conversation with my mother, and to my being wise enough to follow her advice.

I was lucky enough to have someone that understood the importance of exercise, someone to give me the nudge I desperately needed. Since that day, I’ve been resolute in my commitment to health. The payoff in this investment beats the returns you’ll find anywhere else in your life.

This is of course a personal tale, and perhaps quite different than my typical newsletter. But ‘A Small & Simple Thing’ is, at the end of the day, about living and living well. For me there is no greater path to unlocking a beautiful life than lacing up and getting out there. Step-by-step, the path of a runner bends ever upward, and there is always something on the horizon that is worth chasing.

See you out there.