I've been struggling a bit. You may have noticed the lack of Sunday Sweats posts (or maybe just been relieved because you hate them anyway). In either case, they haven't been going up because I've been too busy moping in a puddle of self pity.
I had written a little blurb about finally understanding the love/hate relationship most runners have with their chosen hobby. But I didn't post that either.
I was too bummed. Bummed that my legs aren't fixing themselves quickly. Bummed that the deadline for my half marathon is rapidly approaching and all I'm doing is limping around and losing my conditioning. Bummed that I can't do the thing that I hate doing.
Because I do hate it. Running feels awful just about every time I do it. I feel accomplished when I do it and that's nice, but it's not enough for me to say I "love" it. In fact, the word "love" couldn't have been further from my mind when I was in the groove and seeing progress. "Proud" was one. "Healthy" and "energetic" might be others. Not love.
But then it was taken away from me. And I struggled to force myself to follow doctor's orders, because it was so damn hard to just let go of all that progress. All the months of forcing myself to run. Strength and health and discipline gained, and to just let it go for some piddly, little leg pains? I don't think so.
But the leg pains got worse and I knew that what I was doing was the problem. So I finally caved to common sense. I finally gave in and accepted that I wouldn't be able to run much, if at all, in about 4 weeks for the half.
It was hard. So I pouted. I ate terrible food, canceled the rest of my physical therapy appointments, and stopped doing rehab exercises. I stopped tracking things. What was the point?
And so I continued until I felt thoroughly bloated, lethargic, and all around crappy. I'm not quite sure what the turning point was, but I'm back now. This was a backslide, sure, but I don't want to return to this lifestyle. I don't want this to be me.
I might not be a runner. At least not right now. I might have to walk a couple races, and wistfully watch as my sisters and boyfriend power on ahead of me at the half marathons. But I can still be a fitness enthusiast.
I'm back to lifting. Until yesterday, about halfway through my second set of bench, I didn't realize how much I missed it. There's an adrenaline shock that comes right when your muscles start waking up. Honestly, it's better than a cup of coffee.
And maybe that's my "runner's high." Maybe instead of runner's high, I get lifter's high. Why not, right? I can't run right now, but there's a myriad of other things I can do - I just have to remind myself that my goals are flexible and should be based on what's healthiest for my body, not whatever race I happened to have signed up for 3 months ago.
I'm still bummed. But I'm getting over it. I'm doing my best to be encouraging instead of bitter when Ryan tells me what a great run he had and credits me with getting him started on being fit again. I'm doing my best to not agonize over how terrible this next half marathon is going to be. Or how bitterly ironic it will be that our customized bibs have 300 quotes on them that I can't even pretend to live up to.
In the grand scheme of things those things really don't matter. It's stupid to compare myself to Ryan, because he has a whole history of being a runner behind him. Of course it's easier for him. And even if he didn't have that history, life's not fair. I shouldn't expect it to be. His progress has nothing to do with mine, and making that comparison is pointless.
I might suck at the half marathon. I might not finish before the time limit. But I'll still have a fantastic weekend with my sisters. The only thing that could possibly ruin that is my own negativity. Oh, and the other half marathon? Beat the Blerch. Yeah, there's going to be cake and Nutella. So that'll be fantastic even if I only make it to the first cake station.
Anyway, that's it for today. Just a long, rambly pep talk to myself. You guys understand. We all struggle sometimes.
I had written a little blurb about finally understanding the love/hate relationship most runners have with their chosen hobby. But I didn't post that either.
I was too bummed. Bummed that my legs aren't fixing themselves quickly. Bummed that the deadline for my half marathon is rapidly approaching and all I'm doing is limping around and losing my conditioning. Bummed that I can't do the thing that I hate doing.
Because I do hate it. Running feels awful just about every time I do it. I feel accomplished when I do it and that's nice, but it's not enough for me to say I "love" it. In fact, the word "love" couldn't have been further from my mind when I was in the groove and seeing progress. "Proud" was one. "Healthy" and "energetic" might be others. Not love.
But then it was taken away from me. And I struggled to force myself to follow doctor's orders, because it was so damn hard to just let go of all that progress. All the months of forcing myself to run. Strength and health and discipline gained, and to just let it go for some piddly, little leg pains? I don't think so.
But the leg pains got worse and I knew that what I was doing was the problem. So I finally caved to common sense. I finally gave in and accepted that I wouldn't be able to run much, if at all, in about 4 weeks for the half.
It was hard. So I pouted. I ate terrible food, canceled the rest of my physical therapy appointments, and stopped doing rehab exercises. I stopped tracking things. What was the point?
And so I continued until I felt thoroughly bloated, lethargic, and all around crappy. I'm not quite sure what the turning point was, but I'm back now. This was a backslide, sure, but I don't want to return to this lifestyle. I don't want this to be me.
I might not be a runner. At least not right now. I might have to walk a couple races, and wistfully watch as my sisters and boyfriend power on ahead of me at the half marathons. But I can still be a fitness enthusiast.
I'm back to lifting. Until yesterday, about halfway through my second set of bench, I didn't realize how much I missed it. There's an adrenaline shock that comes right when your muscles start waking up. Honestly, it's better than a cup of coffee.
And maybe that's my "runner's high." Maybe instead of runner's high, I get lifter's high. Why not, right? I can't run right now, but there's a myriad of other things I can do - I just have to remind myself that my goals are flexible and should be based on what's healthiest for my body, not whatever race I happened to have signed up for 3 months ago.
I'm still bummed. But I'm getting over it. I'm doing my best to be encouraging instead of bitter when Ryan tells me what a great run he had and credits me with getting him started on being fit again. I'm doing my best to not agonize over how terrible this next half marathon is going to be. Or how bitterly ironic it will be that our customized bibs have 300 quotes on them that I can't even pretend to live up to.
In the grand scheme of things those things really don't matter. It's stupid to compare myself to Ryan, because he has a whole history of being a runner behind him. Of course it's easier for him. And even if he didn't have that history, life's not fair. I shouldn't expect it to be. His progress has nothing to do with mine, and making that comparison is pointless.
I might suck at the half marathon. I might not finish before the time limit. But I'll still have a fantastic weekend with my sisters. The only thing that could possibly ruin that is my own negativity. Oh, and the other half marathon? Beat the Blerch. Yeah, there's going to be cake and Nutella. So that'll be fantastic even if I only make it to the first cake station.
Anyway, that's it for today. Just a long, rambly pep talk to myself. You guys understand. We all struggle sometimes.
Do you have a love/hate relationship with running? Or with other kinds of exercise? What do you do when you get unmotivated?
