Back in the spring, out of the blue, I came up with this harebrained idea that I'd like to run a full marathon this fall. I found what appeared to be a fantastic 18-week marathon training plan online, which I have since proceeded to completely ignore and avoid looking at altogether.
I have good intentions. I like doing a long run every Sunday, at least in theory, but I have a myriad of excuses as to why that hasn't been happening for the past, uhhh, two months (heat, upset stomach, busy, traveling, SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE). I ran seven miles once in June and a couple 10Ks since then, which is abysmal. To put it in perspective, I should be up to 15-milers by now. Just slightly off plan, huh? So this marathon I was semi-thinking about doing is now two months away and I haven't run more than seven miles since April and never more than 13.1 miles in my life = marathon not happening.
ANYWAY. Last night I went out to do what was supposed to be a long run and ended up being a slow, GI-issues-riddled, and increasingly frustrating 5K ass-clenching trot.
(Do you guys understand how infuriating it is to be mad and hopped up on gangsta rap and just wanting to angry sprint but be stuck doing the "don't-shit-your-pants-shuffle"?)
By the time I got home, I was pissy, like Crazy Girl Pissy, which I'm not proud of. I started bawling about how this is my hobby and I am just the shits at it, and how can I even call myself a runner when getting four or five miles is this big accomplishment, and do I even like it anymore?
And then I had a moment. I realized I like running for the sake of running. I like that I can do it. I don't like feeling forced to do it. As soon as it starts feeling like work, I don't want to do it anymore. I like going on a long run for fun, not when it's just yet another obligation on an already overwhelming to-do list. I would rather slowly, sneakily build up my mileage, and then sign up for a last-minute race after I've prepared on my OWN schedule.
After I processed that thought (and drank a huge beer), I felt better. I feel better knowing that the weather now is pretty great, as in there's actually this thing called a breeze and the humidity is no longer in the triple digits. I know that after the next couple of weeks, things are going to settle down a bit schedule-wise. I have a few fun, shorter distance events to look forward to this fall, and I can sign up for a longer one over the winter or in the spring. This is not my last chance to do it. Just because it doesn't happen this fall doesn't mean it's not going to happen ever.
I have good intentions. I like doing a long run every Sunday, at least in theory, but I have a myriad of excuses as to why that hasn't been happening for the past, uhhh, two months (heat, upset stomach, busy, traveling, SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE). I ran seven miles once in June and a couple 10Ks since then, which is abysmal. To put it in perspective, I should be up to 15-milers by now. Just slightly off plan, huh? So this marathon I was semi-thinking about doing is now two months away and I haven't run more than seven miles since April and never more than 13.1 miles in my life = marathon not happening.
ANYWAY. Last night I went out to do what was supposed to be a long run and ended up being a slow, GI-issues-riddled, and increasingly frustrating 5K ass-clenching trot.
(Do you guys understand how infuriating it is to be mad and hopped up on gangsta rap and just wanting to angry sprint but be stuck doing the "don't-shit-your-pants-shuffle"?)
By the time I got home, I was pissy, like Crazy Girl Pissy, which I'm not proud of. I started bawling about how this is my hobby and I am just the shits at it, and how can I even call myself a runner when getting four or five miles is this big accomplishment, and do I even like it anymore?
And then I had a moment. I realized I like running for the sake of running. I like that I can do it. I don't like feeling forced to do it. As soon as it starts feeling like work, I don't want to do it anymore. I like going on a long run for fun, not when it's just yet another obligation on an already overwhelming to-do list. I would rather slowly, sneakily build up my mileage, and then sign up for a last-minute race after I've prepared on my OWN schedule.
After I processed that thought (and drank a huge beer), I felt better. I feel better knowing that the weather now is pretty great, as in there's actually this thing called a breeze and the humidity is no longer in the triple digits. I know that after the next couple of weeks, things are going to settle down a bit schedule-wise. I have a few fun, shorter distance events to look forward to this fall, and I can sign up for a longer one over the winter or in the spring. This is not my last chance to do it. Just because it doesn't happen this fall doesn't mean it's not going to happen ever.
