On the night of my 30th birthday, I was at a bar in San Francisco… I walked out of that bar at midnight, drunk. I didn’t even own running gear, I had some comfortable silk boxer shorts on – took off my pants – and took off down an alleyway stumbling south without knowing that a town called Half Moon Bay was nearly 30 miles away. When the alcohol wore off, I had this epiphany. I looked up and saw heaven – I saw the stars – it was the first moment of clarity I had since I’d given up running. It made me realise that perhaps I was on this earth to be a runner – I wasn’t happy being a business guy, it was making me miserable. I was comfortable, but miserable.