Friday, October 13, 2006

Friday Night Run

I bailed on my morning runs twice this week. Twice. "Bailed" as in I got dressed, put the shoes on, strapped on the Garmin, and left my house, but then ended up not running.

Tuesday I made it about .25 mile away from my house before I started to feel raindrops. Although I've run in the rain many times; hell, I trained for my first 'thon almost entirely in the rain, I decided that I just didn't feel like it that day. So I turned tail and headed home. And literally crawled back into bed (Dean Karnazes actually ran the White Rock Marathon recreation later than morning in the same storm -- shows you what a total WIMP I am).

On Wednesday, I managed to run 5 miles, although the schedule called for 8. I just didn't feel like getting up that early. On Thursday, I again dressed and left the house, only to come back in after picking up the newspaper. Today, I didn't even pretend. I just hit the snooze button twice, then finally turned off my alarm at 5:20, and slept until 6:00. I regretted that as soon as I left the house to take the boys to school, though -- it was a gloriously clear, cool morning custom-made for a nice run. And I missed it because I was just lazy.

What exactly is going on with me? Is the 20-mile long run being done a signal to me to totally slack off until race day? Am I just exhausted of waking up at 4:45 every weekday morning to run and then still feeling like I'm 10 minutes behind the rest of the day? Is the uncertainty and stress of my life finally taking its toll? Whatever it is, I don't like it. And like I posted earlier, I'm feeling out of whack and totally out of sorts.

So what did I do to combat this? Dino Boy is spending the night at Grandma's tonight, per usual routine, and Hub was taking Elder Child to hockey practice (he can skate again, just no contact yet). And I decided that I needed to run. That I could salvage this week if I did the 8-miler tonight and a leisurely 6-miler tomorrow morning. When I got home from work (after a freakin' 80-minute drive -- GRRR), I changed into my Marine Corps Marathon tech shirt, a tangible reminder of the journey I made last year, and I mapped out an 8-mile route that would keep me away from most of the heavy weekday traffic. Then, I hit the streets. I didn't take the Garmin, mostly because I'd left it on after Wednesday's run and it was completely dead. I did bring my iPod, because that little 1*4 inch piece of white plastic has what little inspiration I have left in me inside it. I glanced at the clock before I left, and then I just ran. I listened to the songs the Shuffle fed me, and I breathed, and I ran. I didn't worry about my pace or my mile splits or anything else but just running. And trying to come to peace with all the thoughts and worries and uncertainties in my head. And trying to find my mojo.

Did it work? I'm not sure. But I'm sitting here sweaty and salty and with tired feet and a big bottle full of water, trying to replenish my body. And I feel a little bit better. Not great, but better. The mojo may still be AWOL, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around and wait for it to come back on its own.

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