I started running at ten. Track and cross country; I was a kid who ran.

When I quit the sport, I quit more than the sport. No guidance, the wrong crowd. Weed early, then harder things, then drinking that followed me into my forties. I quit, started again, quit again, and finally came to grips with what was underneath it. I’ve been clean three years. That’s the last I’ll mention it, but it’s why everything else here is true.

Running never left. Through the eight years I didn’t run, the winters I always quit, the decade of cigarettes (gone ten years now), it kept coming back. Somewhere in there I learned my head runs different: ADHD, major depressive disorder. For years running was the medicine before I knew it was medicine.

My running, stated plainly: I’m closing in on fifty. My longest run is 16 miles. I love the 5K; that’s my race right now. When I earn a 5K time I’m proud of I’ll move up to the 10K, and so on, longer and slower. I’m not fast and I’m not pretending to be.

Graval is for anyone: new or old, fast or slow, starting over or starting late. Run road. Run trail. Run the gravel in between.