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From Block Jog to Marathon
- Not gear per se but a song and this is an amazing swap. Pat’s song is: Baba O’Riley by The Who
If you’ve ever looked at a runner and thought, “That’s not me,” I want you to meet Pat Weitzel.
Pat didn’t grow up chasing finish lines. He wasn’t the kid who lived in spikes and split times. He called himself a computer nerd. Sedentary. Not athletic. And for a long stretch of life, running wasn’t even on the menu until life got heavy, his body started sending louder signals, and one day in Houston, a walk turned into a jog to the end of the block.
And that tiny decision became a turning point.
Pat’s story matters because it’s not built on some mythical “runner identity.” It’s built on real life: a hard move, isolation during the pandemic, health scares, self-consciousness, and the kind of internal talk that can keep a person stuck for years. It’s also built on something else…..momentum. The kind that grows when you stop waiting to feel ready and start moving anyway.
A Hard Move, A Dark Place, And A Wake-Up Call
Pat moved to Houston from Washington, D.C., after growing up in Indiana and spending time in Cleveland. Pat didn’t share every detail of the move with me and he didn’t need to. He said enough for me to understand that the chapter started with pain.
“Moving to Houston was… really traumatic to me… it took me to a really dark place.”
Then the pandemic hit. Isolation stacked on top of isolation. And while his job brought him back into the office sooner than many people, he described those months as quiet in the worst way. You know the scenario: work, home, repeat. Around that time, his health started flashing warning lights. He was around 240–250 pounds. Sciatica pain got debilitating. And eventually, he found himself in a medical appointment hearing words that can either break you… or change you.
“You’re a 40-year-old dude… coming in with overweight, sedentary 40-year-old dude problems… and you’re smart enough to know what happens after this.”
A nurse practitioner added something Pat didn’t realize he needed: hope.
“It’s not too late. You’re not too old. I’ve seen it go a different way.”
That sentence didn’t magically fix everything—but it cracked open a door.
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The First Jog Didn’t Look Pretty
Pat didn’t leave the doctor’s office and sign up for a marathon. He started with walking. Then, late summer 2021, he did something that still makes him laugh a little because it felt so random.
“I decided to jog to the end of the block… I can’t tell you what compelled me to want to move my legs a little bit faster.”
It wasn’t cinematic. It was awkward. Self-conscious. And deeply relatable.
“As awkward as I thought I looked and felt… that’s how it started.”
This is the part I want you to hear clearly: Pat didn’t become Pat-the-marathoner by being confident. He became Pat-the-marathoner by being willing to feel uncomfortable and do it anyway.
Pat run-walked and picked landmarks: the end of the block, a parked car, a lamppost. And slowly, the distance grew. Not because he suddenly transformed into “a runner,” but because he started building belief through small wins.
“There’s something about building upon… initial momentum… ‘I made it this far—what if I went a little farther?’”
The Garmin, The Turkey Trot, And The First “Athletic Goal”
At some point, Pat wanted proof. Not for Instagram. Not for other people. For himself. So he bought a Garmin and started tracking progress. That progress came in the form of distance, time and, most importantly, consistency. It helped turn fuzzy effort into measurable reality.
Then came his first event: a local Turkey Trot.
He signed up for the 5K… and after training, he upgraded to the 10K.
“Very, very quickly… I upgraded to the 10K… that was kind of the moment… ‘I can do better at this than I think I can.’”
And when I asked him what made him feel like an athlete, I expected pace talk. I expected numbers. I expected something like, “I ran X-minute miles.”
Instead, Pat said this:
“I feel like an athlete because I prioritize it… finishing that 10K… that was an athletic goal.”
No gatekeeping. No “you only count if you’re fast.” Just a guy choosing to show up for himself and calling that what it is: training.
That mindset of prioritizing the work over the optics is exactly how everyday athletes take up space. Not by waiting for permission. By deciding they belong.
Falling In Love With Houston And Going Longer
After the Turkey Trot, Pat set his sights on the Houston Half Marathon (the Aramco Half, alongside the Chevron Houston Marathon). It was his first “big event,” and he told me it changed him.
The expo. The bib pickup. The corrals. The sea of people doing something hard for their own reasons.
“Everybody is there to challenge themselves… and getting to the end of that felt absolutely incredible.”
That finish line feeling is powerful. It’s not just pride—it’s perspective. It’s proof.
And once Pat experienced that, the idea of the marathon stopped being a wild concept and started being a question.
What if I can?
Running Is Hard… But So Was Everything Else
We can romanticize running all day, but Pat and I both know the truth: running is hard. The early alarms. The long runs that feel like they take your whole life hostage. The workouts you don’t feel ready for. The mental spiral when your body is tired and your brain starts negotiating.
So I asked him: what keeps you going?
“Not wanting to let myself down… thinking back to that guy… he’d be really proud… I don’t want to let him down.”
That hit me. Because it’s not just motivation. It’s relationship to himself. Pat isn’t running against his old self. He’s running with him. He’s honoring the version that started with one block and kept showing up.
Then Pat shared a mantra from Gattaca:
“I never saved anything for the swim back.”
Not in the reckless way. In the all-in way. The “I’m not half-committing to my own life” way.
And then there’s the other layer…..gratitude. Pat survived a serious heat stroke in 2023. The kind of moment that forces you to understand the line between pushing and danger, and the gift of waking up the next day.
“It’s a gift to be alive… to be able to do this… I want to hang on to this for as long as I can.”
That’s not about running anymore. That’s about living.
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What Pat Wants You To Know If You’re Just Starting
Pat’s advice for new runners is the kind of advice that keeps people in the sport long enough to fall in love with it.
“Don’t compare yourself… bite it off a tiny little piece at a time… jog to the end of that block and then walk…”
Not everyone needs a dramatic transformation story. Sometimes the bravest thing is doing the small thing again tomorrow.
Today, Pat has run the Houston half and multiple Houston marathons. He’s setting personal records and thinking about structured training. He’s chasing a sub-20 minutes 5K because he’s close and yes, he’s flirting with bigger dreams, too.
And the best part?
He’s still the same guy who started by jogging to a parked car.
Only now he knows he belongs out there because he built that truth step by step.
Pat Weitzel didn’t become an everyday athlete because life got easier. He became one because he decided his life mattered enough to fight for—one block at a time.
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