I recited this to myself many times today. There are days –even on the treadmill – when I feel like a runner. When it’s fluid and easy and fun. Those are the days to cherish.
And then there are days like today. For no reason whatsoever, the run sucked ass.
I knew it was going to from the MINUTE I stepped on the treadmill to do my “long run”. When you aren’t even 1/2 mile in and life sucks ass – it ain’t going to be good.
My calves ached – not sure what the deal was with that. I stopped the treadmill at 2 miles and tried stretching them, but they weren’t tight, they just hurt.
By 6 miles in I wanted to stop. Fat Jen leaped in and gave me all kinds of excuses to stop and reasons why a long run was not necessary. Not necessary at all. I had been in the basement running alone and fortunately that’s just about the time that Marc finished snowblowing and came down to lift weights.
Not that he provided relief from my calf pain or the voice in my head that desperately wanted to quit, but having him down there helped get me through.
I made it 13.1 ugly ass miles. Many, many times reminding myself that I needed to “choose my hard”.
I found myself wondering if real athletes experience this. I wonder if sometimes Peyton Manning gets out of bed and just doesn’t want to get out on the field and throw the fucking ball. Or if Michael Phelps just has those days that his first lap in the pool sucks ass and he just wants to get out, put on his PJ’s and watch a movie on the couch.
I hope so! It would make me feel better about sucking at life.
But the good news – as it always is – my body doesn’t give a shit whether the run sucked or not! It still burned those calories and made me fit.
And, as I happily sat down to lunch and my bagel smothered in The Bee’s Knees Peanut Butter – I was happy that I had run those 13.1 miles!
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