Dude, you have to run! It would be so amazing. You will have the time of your life! I promise!”
This was all coming from a state champion runner who wanted me to run. Me, to run! I could not believe it. My mind was in a state of shock that someone this good would want me. What if I ran? Would I like it? Would I be good at it? Who knew!
While I stood in the gathering area of Holy Family Catholic Church that muggy Sunday afternoon, a decision presented itself to me that could possibly change my life drastically—at least my high school one. My mind did not know where to turn. To run, or not to run? That was the question.
It would sacrifice my fall; as a matter of fact, it would sacrifice my whole year. Currently, basketball occupied the blustery months of winter and soccer occupied the beautiful, sunny days of spring. I did not want to run, but a seed in the back of my mind planted itself there and wondered what I would miss, what opportunity I would not open the door to as it knocked. If I did not run, I would never know.
“Man, I don’t know. I don’t think I’d like it.”
“You so will! You’ll be running with a state championship team! It’s so you man! I see it in you!”
“Walk with me, talk with me,” I calmly replied.
Walking down the church hall, now void of worshipers save ourselves, towards the humid, sunny day outside the doors, we discussed this proposition. My mind was unknown to its desires. Yet, Austin’s knew his, he wanted to get me to run, to let go of my fear. Twenty minutes of pure convincing later, I was on the trails, sweating it out for five miles with Austin.
“Crazy Dave the runner,” I kept repeating to myself. Did it work? Would it work? Will running allow me to fill the shoes of the nickname given to me by Austin himself? Only time will tell.
Forty minutes of sheer exhaustion later, we were back at the start. The wet Nashville air had forced our bodies to sweat an unusually large amount, so much so that our shorts had turned a darker shade. Our legs were done moving at an accelerated pace for the day, or at least mine were; Austin appeared to be able to take on a hundred hills even after that exhausting workout. It hurt, but surprisingly I enjoyed it. Actually, I loved it. I wanted to marry running. Austin had taken my hand and led me to the altar. The trails had said my vows as I repeated them. The sun was shining on the future, not a cloud in sight, a perfect runner’s day.
One state championship and nineteen races later, time has told, and it has worked. Never in my life have I been so happy and so unafraid for so long. Inhibitions that brought me down are gone; they’ve scared themselves off. Fear has been frightened off by the real David Ford—all thanks to a little bit of peer pressure from a friend. Who would have thought that could be a good thing?
Peer pressure is given a bad name in the world. It is associated with drugs and teens pressuring their friends to involve themselves in the world of self-inflicted evil. Yet, some days, it’s good to have a little peer pressure. It might lead you to discover a new part of you, or you may try something you’ve never done before. Hopefully, it’s a good thing.
“Dude, you have to run!” Never before has five casual words changed a life so greatly.
