Every story has a starting point, but mine didn’t begin until it almost ended. I was about 22 years old, living a long way from home in the suburbs of Washington DC. I had a job working security for a defense contractor. When I was in high school, I didn’t play sports; my main action included walking to school (about a mile), gym class, and the basic activities done with the Boy Scouts. When I left home at 17, all of that stopped. I quickly realized the stress of managing my own finances, looking for a job, and otherwise struggling with my newfound indepenence (read: more poor choices). Dinner would come in the form of a trip to 7-11 for a couple of chili dogs, nachos, bags of chips, and soda.