Hi, my name is Mike and I’m an addict. (All together: “Hi, Mike”).
It all started for me in college. Illegally. Not surprisingly.
My first two were definitely illegal – I didn’t pay, qualify or even register.

I just jumped in.
It was too easy to follow the crowd.
I didn’t know what I was doing.

After two, I took a four year “leave.”
It wasn’t by choice. Shit happens.
A few years later I was back at it again. Doing it differently than most.
And I haven’t stopped in over 17 years.
I got my last fix just about a week ago.
I’ll admit it.
Should I really call it a fix?
I couldn’t hold off any longer.
It was number fifty-something but, to be honest, I’ve lost count.
I drove about twelve hours for this one.
And it was over in about three.
My addiction has reached new levels.
I did this one purely for fun.
No gun time. No chip time. Just fun time.
I never knew it would get like this.
I don’t want to stop.
I just can’t.
Why should I?
What are the alternatives?
How would I get my fix?
On a couch with a beer watching sports on TV?
No way. That’s not me.

I gotta be a part of it. I need the energy.
I want the pain.
I’ve done all types.
Flat ones. Hilly ones. Warm ones. Cold ones. Even wet ones.

Cold, hilly, wet, windy ones here and there too.
On American soil and on foreign ground.
Each one is unique.
Every time is a challenge.
I’ve even thought about doing two in a weekend.
That’s right.
It’s that addicting.
From the first two I ran as a Boston bandit to the last one I rolled in a wheelchair and won.
I’m a marathoner.
I’m an addict.
I don’t want to stop.
I can’t.
Care to join me?