I have always run with a twitch, a fault that is not aggressively apparent unless you take a closer look. I was born pigeon-toed and have faint memories of a foot-leg brace to straighten it out. And like C.L. Smooth, its prominence faded with time even as I reminisce over it…

There have been times in my life where I turned a watchful eye upon the reflection in the mirror and pondered with disapproval what looked back. The excuses are plentiful: A latchkey kid alone with access to the fridge after school with no supervision. Skinny friends whose parents provided ample amounts of sugary snacks to share, particularly Entenmann’s Chocolate Donuts. An abundance of juveniles’ daily decent upon a popular convenience store allowing one such juvenile to abscond with cupcakes and Hawaiian Punch without fear.

All of that led to looking at the shape in the mirror with regular disgust, robbing myself of self-confidence and lowering a self-esteem that searched for other outlets to quench its thirst. It found purchase in academic achievements that came without excessive thought. In creative outlets linked to friends willing to play along and follow suit; and it found the deepest well to wade in with sports.

I can remember running across the street to play touch football with slightly older boys. Running down the hill to the park or down the street to the high school to utilize fields, walls and parking lots. Running across town to play pick-up basketball in a friend’s backyard.

Nevertheless, while I say run, it is more than likely I was walking.

My penchant to walk long distances made me believe that I could easily transition that into running long distances. I waited until the summer before leaving for college to put this to the test. It was never done to better my body; actually, it was preparation for the expected running regiment that awaited an Army ROTC recruit.

I learned that summer that once I passed the initial pain of quickly putting one foot in front of the other and repeating, it didn’t hurt that much. I still was not too thrilling about any of it, but once college began and I was running with fellow ROTC recruits, I realized I could easily stay with the group. That was more important than finished ahead of the pack.

I separated myself from the ROTC rank and file, putting pressure on my future-self to follow through after graduation. Unfortunately, in my next semester, I found rugby and Southern Comfort and running took a back seat. Despite numerous pick-up basketball games on an assortment of courts around the Boston/Brookline area, I did not ‘run’ again for what felt like decades.

I could not tell you exactly why I started running again. The noble answer would be an attempt to improve myself for my wife and provide my daughters an in-home showcase to good health. More than likely, if memory serves correct, it started soon after I was laid off from my job and I ran to kill time between waking up and going to the Unemployment Office.

During that time, I was an on-and-off follower of the Total Body Sculpt Workout with Gilad Janklowicz and his assistants just off the water in Hawaii. I did not download the RunKeeper app until 2016, so there’s a five-year gap unaccounted for to assist with my memories. But my biggest motivation to ‘run’ was watching my wife train for and finish her first 5K run.

I hate to admit it, but soon afterwards, I set my sights on completing something similar. Six months later, I ran the Lights Up The Corners 4-mile run at The Forum in Peachtree Corners in 39.08. It was a race I trained for sporadically, not taking it too seriously. I ran the course a few weeks beforehand and would cut 30 seconds off my mile time during race day, a result of the other competitors and a desire to keep up with them.

Reaching that summit led to a disheartening downward decline into a self-constructed dark valley, the light from which I have only recently located to align my sights towards. Within this gloomy time, I began running again as something to do, adding a familiar routine that seemed fine at the time, but depressing in the 20/20 vision of retrospect.

I suspect I should thank the confusingly attentive Big Peach Running Co. – Midtown attendant. She repeatedly spoke of her boyfriend and was generally overeager. However, she did suggest the pair of Brooks that immediately cut seconds off my time. It was there I asked about how to qualify for the Peachtree Road Race and informed about the Atlanta BeltLine Eastside 10K.

My regular running routes consist of the rolling terrain around Centennial Olympic Park and the surrounding areas. While it may feel flat while driving, there are numerous little hills like the rise to get to Northside Drive and the Georgia World Congress Center on Simpson, I mean Ivan Allen Jr./Joseph Boone Blvd.

I run in the early morning hours, well before the streets fill with cars and pedestrians. It allows me to run in the street itself, so I usually incorporate going against the non-existent oncoming traffic north on Courtland Street and south on West Peachtree. But even with that advantage, there are still valleys and peaks to conquer.

So imagine my contentment when presented with a flat course for the Beltline 10K. Without having to elevate uphill, I felt even more confident I would finish with enough energy for a closing kick and a better time. I mistakenly asking a co-worker, one I thought was someone else, about long-distance running. I was correct that he was a runner and predicted a 30-second improvement from my best time.

Despite my last timed run I was still suspect of his predicted result; especially with weather forecasts calling for rain. I am fine walking in the rain, sprinting in the rain from car to shelter and watching rain clouds and lightning from second-floor balconies and high-rise windows. However, long-distance running in the rain was not anything I wanted.

I woke up Saturday morning with a choice – either forgo the registration fee or resign myself to doing what I dread. In the end, I am too cheap to watch good money go to waste and arrived at Krog Street about 45 minutes before the 9:30 a.m. start, negotiating rain puddles resembling lakes to get to the check-in station.

The lead-up is always bigger than the actual event and this was no different. I expelled nervous energy wandering around the indoor lobby, occasionally stretching and looking at the other competitors. When the MC called everyone to the starting line, we wandered together in a cluster while getting soaked and awaited the signal.

I would love this to be a tale about how I set a course record or shocked the world with an improbable race. The reality is I ran my race and kept my pace. After about a mile, the path around me cleared and I ran most of the 6.2 miles by myself.

By that, I mean there were few at the exact same pace as me. At one point around Piedmont Park, I ran with a couple of guys and we talked about the many liquid obstacles that forced everyone off the concrete path and into the mud-soaked sidelines to avoid standing water. But Runkeeper alerted I had reached the 3-mile mark and I kicked forward to get ahead.

Ahead of me was a woman wearing shorts with a colorful design. I had noticed her in front of me from the first mile, caught sight of her leaving Piedmont Park and tried to keep up. I never did catch her, but in the final .2 with the Finish line in sight, I did kick to pass someone who ran past me late.

I could dispute the exactness of my final time – 53:10. There was a woman with a scanner and a short line to reach her. I did not know her role, so I didn’t get there ASAP. Who decided this was the best way? What is the point of an electronic bib if it still needs to be scanned? When did I actually start and finish? Was it 10 seconds or a minute before I handed her my tag to scan? Why did no one inform me to find her afterwards?

Or does none of it matter because at the end of the day, I completed a 10k run in less than an hour and felt pretty good afterwards? Was that the true prize – not a slick long-sleeve shirt, a cold beer and a couple of bananas?

After running at least twice a week for more than three months, I stopped for a week and noticed the difference. The scale says I have gained a couple of pounds, but it feels like 15 and may be the result of taking advantage of Burger King’s 10 nuggets for $1 deal.

With the holiday season here, the opportunity for random free plates of food and an internal clock that has me awake at 4:20 a.m., I plan to be back out before sunrise on the streets of downtown Atlanta and beyond…

As soon as it stops raining.