How Running at 50 Turned Me from Couch Potato to Marathon Maniac

I cant imagine a better way to spend the day

Ah, 50. The age where your knees make more noise than your car and getting out of bed feels like an Olympic event. If you’d told my 30-year-old self that I’d be running marathons in my 50’s, I would’ve laughed so hard I’d spill my double chocolaty chip crème. But here I am, the once self-proclaimed Couch Potato King, now pounding the pavement like I’ve got something to prove.

The Early Days: From Couch to 5K (with a lot of whining in between)

Let me set the scene. It’s my 49th birthday, and instead of waking up to the sweet smell of bacon, I was greeted by my reflection. And let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty. My belly had developed its own gravitational pull, my legs had forgotten what muscles were, and the only running I did was from my responsibilities. But something snapped that day. Maybe it was the realization that my clothes had mysteriously shrunk (thanks, dryer!), or maybe it was the fact that tying my shoes was starting to feel like a workout.

So, I decided to start running. Well, sort of. My first attempt was more like a tragic comedy—a slow-motion montage of sweat, gasping for air, and questioning every life decision I’d ever made. I managed to struggle my way through a couch to 5K, which felt like running the Boston Marathon in clown shoes.

The Turning Point: Finding My Groove (and losing some weight)

Despite all the initial hardships, I stuck with it. Why? Because after a while, I started to enjoy the little victories. Like the day I ran a mile without stopping. Sure, I had to lie down for 20 minutes afterward, but it was progress! And slowly, I began to notice changes. My face was getting less puffy, my stamina was growing, and I was starting to feel—dare I say it—good.

Just after reaching 52, I was running half-marathons like a man on a mission and out pacing a couple of friends that were half my age.   And let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of crossing that finish line, drenched in sweat, knowing you didn’t die. But the best part? I could eat a burger and fries guilt-free because, hey, I earned it!

Marathon Madness: Because Why Stop at Half?

Of course, once you catch the running bug, it’s hard to stop. After my half-marathons, I decided to go all in. The full marathon. I trained like a madman, eating all the carbs, hydrating like a camel, and icing parts of my body I didn’t even know existed. And when race day came, I felt ready. Well, as ready as you can feel when you’re about to voluntarily run 26.2 miles.

The race itself was a blur of sweat, cheers, and the occasional mental breakdown. But crossing that finish line? Pure euphoria. And exhaustion. And hunger. I’m not saying I cried, but I’m also not saying I didn’t eat an entire post-race burrito with tears of joy in my eyes.

Life Lessons from a 50-Year-Old Marathon Maniac

Running has taught me a lot. Like the importance of good shoes, the value of persistence, and that chafing is no joke. But more than that, it’s shown me that age is just a number. Sure, 50 may come with a few extra creaks and groans, but it’s also a reminder that it’s never too late to turn things around. Whether it’s running, walking, or crawling to the finish line, the important thing is to keep moving forward and never give up.

So, to all my fellow 50-somethings out there thinking about lacing up those running shoes—do it. Your future self will thank you. And if nothing else, you’ll have an excuse to eat more carbs

image shot at Ara Ha