I was born and raised in the city of and suburbs of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Once my parents’ moved myself and my brother out to the suburbs, we were still wild children with way too much energy for my tired parents’ who were logging 20 hour days at their clothing store.

But my mother always told me something that still sticks with me to this day, “Never let a boy tell you that you’re not good enough, or that you can’t do something!”
She marched me to the Little League sign-ups for softball, tee-ball, and all types of sports camps. And though money was always tight and she could never come to the games like all the other moms, I knew that she saw herself in me.

Things got tougher financially when I was in middle school and high school, and I threw myself into academics. I wasn’t the smartest in my class, but I tried the hardest. And of course, I tried out for all the sports teams, some I didn’t make it, and mostly being benched in Junior Varsity. But I always loved to run. Sometimes it was fast sprints, suicides in the smelly gym, slow jogs, long endurance runs. I’d run in rain, snow, cold, hot, outside, or on the local YMCA treadmill.

Perhaps it was an escape, running away from family and money problems, or not fitting in at my Abercrombie and Fitch school. Slowly but surely, I started to gain confidence from my running ability. I remember a line from one of my favorite movies, “Forrest Gump,” where Jenny calls out to the main character, Forrest, “Run Forrest Run!!.” Forrest didn’t exactly run the fastest, but he just kept going. He didn’t stop until he felt like it was the right time to take off his running shoes.

I, on the other hand, have learned that running won’t make my problems go away. It just gives me a better perspective about life, about working towards a goal, about patience. Most of all, running gave me the ability to look in the mirror and tell myself that I’m okay. Not perfect at all, but I’m cool with being me. Plus the endorphins rock.