Duuuuuude……. I have been training my ass off. Literally. I have officially entered pancake ass territory, but my legs are still not going faster. It’s so frustrating.
Long story short, I caught the Sidekick’s man-flu, which was a mild strain of the bubonic plague. I shit you not. After 3 weeks of chest infections, coughing fits and OBVIOUSLY running a race during all of this and being in bed for 4 days, I am back clocking miles again. As incredibly frustrating as the “down time” has been, it’s been a blessing in disguise. Shock and horror, I know. But my body needed it and I needed to gain some much-needed perspective.
I am not an overly competitive person…. Depends on what is at stake (the things I wouldn’t do for wine/chocolate/crispy white dinner rolls/cheese). But with running, I am incredibly hard on myself. I will push myself so hard that I forget why I started running. Amid ripping a portal to hell open on the track running intervals, I forget that running is my sanctuary. That it is my happy place. That it’s my escape. And most definitely not my whip for not being speedy.
I am currently training for my 3rd half marathon this year… Well my 3rd in total.
Next month is my 2 year runanniversary.
Do you know when the last time was I ran before then? Primary school!!! I am 38. But I somehow got it into my head that I should be running times and distances like people that have been running for years. I honestly can’t say if I have much running talent and I don’t feel like I was born to run. Just like everyone else, I have had to earn my place at the table and fight to keep it.
But running doesn’t care. It’s like coffee. It’s a forgiving lover. You can go onto decaf for 6 months and espresso will take you back like you never left. Same with running. The road doesn’t care how fast you run your mile or how many times you stopped.
I felt over the last few months so incredibly despondent with the progress I have made when it comes to my running pace. That I have lost sight of all the other progress I have made. I set myself up for failure by comparing myself to others.
I will fail if I try and achieve your goals. I will fall short when I try and run your mile at your pace. I can’t skip stages 5 to 11 because that is where I want to be. We must trust the process, and yes, its hell in the hallway. But nothing worth fighting for is cheap or easy, so I can just as well have fun doing it.
And that is where I am at. I am back to having fun on my runs. I am back to stopping the clock to go and take pictures of random birds or to climb a tree. I am back to laughing at myself dying next to the track and calling it a day early, as I am tried and too old for this shit. I am back to running with a smile on my face and not checking my pace every 300m to make sure I am pushing myself.
Since then I have had the most amazing runs. My heart full. My pace on point. I am hitting the targets, I missed some, but even then, I was proud of myself for getting it done.
I am never going to be on the podium, unless drinking wine or eating cheese is involved, so I can just as well make the best of it. And this is not an excuse for me not to dream big or cutting myself slack. Heck no. I will run a sub 2 hr half marathon, I will still run a marathon, an Ultra….. who knows I might even do an Ironman. But I will be doing them on my terms. And I will be smiling training for them. More importantly I will get there when I get there. At my pace and I will be will be grateful for every run.
We all got given the exact same gift. The only thing different is the person using it.