Funky Chicken

2013 was supposed to be the year that my running took off.  Second year into the sport, good races lined up, lots of supportive friends, more miles under my belt.  It was going to be my year.

So far, it hasn't exactly gone according to plan.  I'm healthy.  My family is healthy.  My husband has a job, we have a lovely home, I have great friends.  I am in no way trying to play the "Woe is me, my life sucks" card.  That is reserved for people with bigger problems.  But I do have a problem right now, and it's driving me a little batty.

I love running.  Running, however, does not appear to love me.  I literally take two steps forward and one step backwards.  (No, really - I used "literally" right.  I run in freaking circles - and have run backwards on quite a few occasions!)

Three weeks from Sunday, I am supposed to run a 10 mile race.  I signed up ages ago, had to wait to hear if I was picked in the lottery, and then sent off my $65 or whatever the heck it was.  I committed.  I had a plan all mapped out on how I was going to increase my daily runs and my weekly mileage and I was going to run the race and finish smiling.  I had a plan, man.

As it stands, between injury and illness, I am nowhere near where I wanted to be 3 weeks out from this race.      I am feeling underwhelmed, unexcited, and frankly, pissed off that I'm even signed up for it.  I don't want to run the race, because it's not going to be the way I had planned.

But then my rational side (HAHAHAHAHA.  Sorry, that's only really funny if you know me) kicks in and says "But you have a half marathon scheduled a month after the 10 miler! You'd need to run long that weekend anyway, why not just do the darn race?"  

So then I'm all pouty and pissed about the HM, too,  because - again - not where I wanted to be at this point! I don't know what to do.  Run the races, very possibly have a really shitty time at each, and chalk it up to experience, or just skip them and possibly feel bad about myself afterwards?

My brain is not helping matters, because it just pointed out to me that back in October, when I was considering skipping a 5K because I didn't think it was going to go well and I was feeling pouty and sorry for myself, it turned out to be the best run I've ever had and I managed a huge PR.

Well, phooey.

Thinking about Tuesday

I let myself quit far too often.  I tell myself it's fine, it doesn't matter.  I let myself off the hook - and every time I do, another part of me shrivels up and becomes less than.  Less than I could be.  Less than I want to be.  But it's ok. It's fine.  Except that it's not.

I got very close to quitting again this week, with regards to my running.  Not quitting entirely, just... letting myself off the hook for a race I have coming up.  Saying it doesn't really matter, why put the pressure on myself?  I've been sick.  I haven't trained properly.  It's not a big deal.  Except that it is.

Then I read this post.

How do I want to feel on Tuesday?  Like I did everything I could, and left it all on the road.  Because in the end, who do I want to be?  What version of myself? I've spent years being less than.  Maybe it's time I tried a different tactic.

Picture This

Starting a running blog while unable to run probably wasn't my smartest move ever.  We (that's the royal we) are in week 6 of not running, and having a pretty darn boring blog.  My apologies.  Today in an effort to not whine about not running, I present you with two pictures.   The first sums up what my life has been like for the past 5+ weeks.   The second is representative of what's wrong with this lovely country of ours (in my humble yet loud opinion).

First Picture: 

When you have 6 medicine measuring cups on the window sill above your sink, it's fairly safe to say that your life is not exactly a roaring good time.   Unless, of course, you're using said medicine in an unlawful way (but then why would you bother with the measuring cups?). 

Second picture:

While shopping at the mall today, I stopped to get a Dr. Pepper, which is basically my one addiction in life, besides running (and shopping).  I asked for a small, and was handed that cup.  If you can't quite see, on the bottom it's printed that the cup holds 32 oz.  THIRTY TWO OUNCES.  I balked and said to the kid behind the counter "That's a SMALL?"  His response "Well, no, but all drinks are the same price."   Oh, right, well that makes sense.  Not.  *eye roll*   I ended up drinking about half of it.  What in the world?  Am I the only one who is turned off by the huge cups everywhere? Do you remember what a small soda used to look like? When did we all decide that bigger was better, in calories and everything else? Bah humbug. 

And now that I've got my grumpy face on, I'll leave you with something that I found cheerful today.  For your viewing pleasure, I present you with...   Marathon Thoughts.  

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!

I feel like I've been in OZ for the past 5 weeks - or dropped down a rabbit hole somewhere.  Being sick for so long, I really feel as if I've lost time.  My daughter's 4th birthday party is in two weeks and I've done no planning.  We're flying to visit my parents next month and I have yet to get a rental car.  I have a 10 mile race coming up and I'm feeling bewildered as to how I'm going to run it, considering I've been a giant couch potato for the past month.

But.  On the bright side.  I'm feeling better - at last - and I'm hoping that the antibiotics I was finally given have kicked this thing (cough, bronchitis, whatever the heck it was) in the butt, and that I can move on with my life, instead of staying in this stagnant hole that I've been in for weeks on end.  

So, I'm dusting myself off and declaring sick time over.  It's time that I get back to the land of the living and stop being so pathetic and "woe is me."

Of course, it's supposed to snow all weekend.  How's that for my running come back? *grumble grumble*  That's ok.  I have socks that declare me to be a Bad Ass.  I can run in snow after being out with bronchitis for 5 weeks, right?

Errr... maybe I'll hit the gym and reacquaint myself with the treadmill.  Either way.  Up and running.