Bob Becker’s a runner who lives in a pancake-flat part of Florida who occasionally runs races in other hilly places. You don’t need to be a runner, however, to understand the problem this presents.

To understand his solution to it, though, it really helps to be a runner. But not the sort who runs mainly for exercise or even the type committed enough to do a few 5k and 10k races competitively each year.

What you need to be is the hardest of the hardcore, or perhaps a certified psychologist.

For even though Becker’s solution’s seemingly understandable — to run back and forth over a fairly steep bridge in his area — the hard-to-wrap-your-head-around part is the length of it. He’ll run back and forth and back and forth over that bridge for 25 mind-numbing miles.

While the thought of doing that makes the truly hardcore smile, it makes just about everybody else, including those with a degree in psychology, think Bob Becker is obsessive and how he trains unhealthy.

Fuel for that fire: the last hilly race Becker ran is this year’s Badwater 135 Ultramarathon. Not only does it encompass three mountain ranges over the course of 135 miles, but it also begins in the Death Valley desert.

And if that’s not obsessive and unhealthy enough for you, the temperature in Death Valley was 118 degrees Fahrenheit at the race’s start this year, and it took Bob Becker 45 hours to complete the course.

But obsessive can also be impressive, and Becker’s accomplishment is even more so because of a bit of information that’s been intentionally withheld until now. Bob Becker’s a “seasoned” runner.

Seasoned to the point he’s 80 years old, an age where many struggle to merely walk a mile, let alone run a single one. Yet on July 9, Becker became an ultramarathon immortal by finishing the Badwater 135 Ultramarathon within the 48-hour time limit thereby becoming the oldest person to ever do so.

That’s a feat that’s even harder for you to wrap your head around than somebody running back and forth over a bridge for 25 miles.

And since that’s the case, the question now becomes just what is it exactly you’re supposed come to terms with after reading all this stupefying stuff about Becker? After all, there’s a pretty good chance you’re not a runner, a better chance you’re not 80, and virtually no chance at all you’re both.

That the best part of this record-setting runner’s story can become yours.

Becker recently told NPR radio that while he occasionally did sports as a young and middle-aged adult, he “didn’t really run” until he was nearly 60 years old. But his start didn’t result because of some sort of health scare or a belated mid-life crisis.

It occurred simply because a few friends from his old hometown of Minneapolis invited him back to the Gopher State to go for a run with them. The “run” being the Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth.

“It sounded like a great excuse for a party,” Becker said, so he bought some running shoes, began training, and finished that marathon in a faster time than anyone could’ve ever imagined. Fast enough to qualify him to run in the granddaddy of them all, the Boston Marathon.

So Becker found himself doing something he never imagined doing while training for his first marathon. Running a second one.

About a year after that, a younger running buddy proposed a seemingly outrageous idea: for both of them to attempt the Marathon des Sables, an ultramarathon held in the Sahara desert. Since you already know about Becker’s Badwater success, it won’t be a surprise to learn he agreed to do so, but reason he did might, and it sets the stage for the rest of the story.

Becker was about to turn 60 and his buddy about to turn 40, so he figured, “Why don’t we give ourselves a birthday present and try this crazy thing?”

Crazy thing, indeed. Or was it?

For after that run, Becker fell “absolutely fell in love with [ultramarathon running]. The whole challenge of it, the spectacular scenery, the camaraderie especially.”

And there it is. The part of the story that, whether you’re eight or 80, whether you currently exercise or not, that could be yours.

You could fall in love with some type of exercise.

If you already feel that way, count your blessings. But if you don’t, you probably can’t ever imagine doing so.

That’s okay, for Becker never imagined it either. “It just sort of happened.”

But it never would’ve happened except Becker did something that’s essential to do to fall in love with anything. He remained open to and curious about life’s possibilities.

Be that way toward all forms of exercise and there’s a really good chance you’ll develop a love for one or two.