Everything aligned at the right time, and I booked my first race with a friend in tow. My uncle had done Fenway Spartan Sprints (Spartan races at Fenway Stadium in Boston) for a few years, and somehow the Spartan algorithm on Facebook got it right and hit me with a sale price for the West Point Sprint. I started holding myself accountable for what I was putting into my body and what I was doing with it. I got married and fell into a rut of working, video games and mediocre fitness.įast forward to 2018, I decided I’d had enough of it. I found myself gravitating towards only LGBT communities where I knew I’d be welcomed. In college, I worked out, focusing mostly on aesthetics, without purpose or direction and without any major success. My teammates stopped talking to me, and I lost much of the joy I once found in sports. I didn’t want any of that to change when I came out as gay my sophmore year, but sadly, it did. Sport was such a huge part of my life, and many of my close friends were also teammates. Growing up in New England, I went to an all-boys prep school where I was a decent soccer and hockey player with a friendly attitude on and off the field.
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