There are times when I just can’t help but feel like a huge, oversized, some-other-word-meaning-gigantic failure.
(Okay, look: I’m not needing a million “attaboys” or “no, you’re not!”s or coddling of any sort, so don’t feel compelled.)
(I mean, I love you all for your need to coddle me, and sometimes I like it, but I’m just saying that I’m NOT putting this out there to fish for compliments.)
I was all about training for a half-marathon. I was. I was all about it and for three weeks or so, I totally did it. I ran anywhere from 12-17 miles a week, and got long runs of 4 or so miles in. I did that. I DID IT.
But then? I didn’t. Do it. So much.
Running was just too hard. And I know I was just at that cusp where if I had just kept at it, I would’ve had the breakthru where suddenly 5 miles is not too long anymore, but I didn’t hang on long enough. I got sick, the baby got sick, we all got sick, and then there were parties, and dinners, and COLD, and..
.. and I just stopped holding myself accountable.
And I know that, especially in the written form, me admitting that here sounds fleeting and insincere, but I really and truly had an entire dream about it this weekend. I dreamed that I literally went to New Orleans, roomed with Linda, and everything I said just visibly annoyed her (I don’t think she is at all this kind of person, btw, but she also had a pixie cut in my dream, so she clearly was Linda in another dimension), and then? THEN I LIED ABOUT RUNNING THE RACE. I had an entire dream based on GUILT.
And then one of my good friends announced a while back that he was coming home for the month of December, and I knew that he runs, so I mentioned that, Hey, we should go running! and now HE’S HOME AND JESUS GOD, HE WANTS TO RUN. And he’s all But I only run a nine minute mile, so .. and I’m all NINE MINUTE MILE IN MY DREAMS! ( .. but not really because even in my dreams I’m a horrible runner, obviously.)
Also? I don’t like running in the dark. And before you start getting on your soapbox about safety while running at night, IT’S NOT THAT. It’s the fact that the last time I went running at night, I stepped IN squirrel roadkill. Like, slipped. And almost fell on my ass into said squirrel roadkill. Fresh. Yes, let THAT seep in. They don’t cover THAT in Running Safely at Night, do they?
I figure I’ll run while he’s home. At the very least, it will keep me honest during the holidays instead of ballooning up (which is what I’m inclined to do). And hell, maybe my time will get better?
Half in February, though? Rethinking that plan.
Other stuff I’ve failed at here lately:
- Taking maintenance sinus medication consistently
- Remembering. Anything.
- Taking off my makeup before bed
- Forcing all family meals to be eaten at the table
- Routine oil changes
I know we’re supposed to be buck up and be strong and GIRL POWER and all of that crap, and I think that we all do, most of the time, usually without any heralding or provocation. But I also think that, sometimes, we need to just wave the white flag and cry surrender and help ourselves to some more chocolate.
Then lace up the sneaks and hit the pavement.
Edited to Add: While writing this post, my running buddy said that he was going to workout during the day today so running with him tonight is optional. I think this is a test. What Should Sarah Do?