Last week’s long run was atrocious, obviously.
So naturally I spent the entire week fixating on it and trying to reason out how I would manage to survive 18 this week and then, you know, go two miles farther.
Because I now live in a world where this sort of garden-variety nonsense is COMPLETELY NORMAL.
Since obviously feelings of failure breed…more anxiety, Marcus will be the first to tell you that I was a mess on Friday night.
I kid you not when I say that I curled up in a ball on the bed, and attempted to physically bury myself in training plans before we went out on our date.
I just wanted to clear things up in case you were questioning whether or not I was clinging to any remaining shreds of dignity.
The correct answer would be: There are no shreds of dignity left to cling to.
Once he managed to herd me out of the house, instead of engaging in epic amounts of self-sabotage (which is a failed tactic I’ve turned to before), I behaved. I drank two beers, ate a “smart” dinner that also happened to be delicious and was in bed by 10 PM.
I woke up when my alarm clock decided to action the extremely cryptic buzzing-crescendoing ring arrangement that it’s so fond of, followed The Routine and did it.
My stomach did not fight me, my abs did not fail me.
I practiced getting ferklempt at a completely inappropriate moment during the race where I could end up courting an asthma attack instead of a PR.
It happens more than I would care to admit.
I ate at appropriate times. I tried to remember to drink before I got thirsty.
When I made it to mile 16, I remembered to smile because I wasn’t in pain.
That might sound totally psychotic, but I very strongly feel that the ability to embrace gratitude and joy while you’re running has a direct and immediate impact on the way that your run goes.
And even though I gave myself permission to stop at 18 miles, I pushed through.
I thought about how a year and a half ago, I was so desperately hoping that I would be able to survive a 5k in 35:00 without walking. In the rain. Wearing shoes that I bought solely because they were on sale, in sports bras that had seen more high school cheerleading practices and summers at camp than trails.
Now when I see that I have about 35:00 to go, I am less than 10 miles away from completing a marathon.
I am in a
better stronger place.
As of last Saturday, that place I’m in is only 6.2 miles away.
How do you get yourself back up on the horse?