In the 30 years I’ve been a runner I’ve run more than 150,000 miles. Still, some of the hardest steps I take are those first few getting out the door for daily runs. –Bill Rodgers, Lifetime Running Plan
Are you drinking enough water? —my Dad, upon your acknowledgement of any feeling of ill health
Are you exercising? —my Dad, upon your acknowledgement of any feeling of ill health (if the above is answered in the affirmative).
A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity liked an armed man. —Proverbs 6:10-11
It’s been a bit of a broken week for me. On the heels of being out of the office Tuesday to Friday last week, I was in briefly Monday, only to head to the airport in the afternoon—work stacking up but trumped by more travel. On top of that, my Chicago Marathon training was scheduled to start this week. Having taken time off after Boston, with the plan to let my body heal and adjust my running form, I’ve lost almost all of my hard earned fitness, am using very different muscles to run and have what amounts to a relatively short period left to prepare.
The net result is that I have learned to dread running again. I have slowed my pace at times to nearly 2 minutes slower than my goal pace, labored over short runs, walked, blistered and bled. My legs have hurt in muscles I didn’t know I had, and I am often back to limping down stairs again. I just saw this morning that I have toe nails that are dying.
It’s so easy to forget how hard it is to get started. Running 70 miles a week is easier than the first few runs after a break.
About a month ago, I also started a Bible in a Year reading program, which requires that I read 4 chapters per day on average. I’m behind on this as well, watching my estimated day of completion slip over time and struggling to get caught up.
I realize these don’t seem like major events, and in the grand scheme of things, they are not…not in and of themselves anyway. But, when my personal disciplines fade, I become grumpy, stressed and disquieted. And it’s usually a viscous cycle for me. I start to dread runs more and attach too much significance to each run. I procrastinate on my Quiet Time (my Bible reflection and prayer). I sleep later than I should, my diet deteriorates and my alcohol consumption climbs. Then I start rescheduling my week (problem solving at its best), trying to figure out where I’ll make it all up. Problem is, Wednesday’s run become 8 miles instead of 6, Thursday’s rest day goes away—and the next thing I know I’m in bed sick from late night cookies, dehydrated from one too many beers, trying to figure out if I can even run 8 miles any more!
Then I start beating myself up and/or making excuses. In this case, I have been almost to the point of quitting on Chicago this year.
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