It happened at Burnaby Lake

Everyone remembers the first time they flew in an airplane, bungee jumped or had some other life-changing event take place. For me, that was the first time I attempted to run 10 Kilometers non-stop.

I've never been a "skinny" guy, and during my heavier days in college, a friend of mine suggested I try running with him to get rid of my spare tire. For anyone who has never been, Burnaby Lake is outlined by a 10K trail system that is perfect for running. On that fateful day in 2002 however, my cardio was anything but perfect for running.

After wheezing my way through about a quarter of the twisty, bumpy trail, my lungs began to burn at an excruciating level. Did I mention I was a half-a-pack-a-day smoker in those days? It's true. I soon stopped running completely and slumped over in a sweaty hump while the lung butter shot out like a double-barrel phlegm rifle (yuck). My friend and nemesis tried to urge me on with supportive comments like, "Oh, come on! There are girls watching." and "I'll leave you here if you're not in the parking lot when I finish."

I picked myself up and ran for another 5 minutes, stopping once again to loosen some more tar from my aching lungs. That's how it pretty much went for the next hour-plus: run for a bit, stop and die for a bit. Buddy, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna try this again.

Being a student, and broke, I was having trouble affording my expensive cigarette habit, so quitting was my only option. There are so many gimmicks out there to help you quit: the nicotine patch, the gum, cold turkey, etc. I remembered running in that trail, and the way my lungs felt like they were filled with charcoal briquettes. Maybe if I just run again, it'll make me hate cigarettes because they were to blame for making my lungs feel like Mt. St Helen's.

You know what? It actually worked. Now I run that 10K in under 40 minutes, and I can't remember the last time I sucked on a cigarette. I guess this goes to show you that a) A little bit of pain goes a long way in breaking bad habits; and b) I owe my start in running to a guy named Christopher Skidmore.