Sunday the weather was yucky. At 5 a.m. sleet fell hard enough to make the ground white. I needed to do a long run but I decided I would wait for the weather to clear.
My decision was the right one. In the next 30 minutes there were two vehicular accidents within a few miles of my house.
On one hand I was looking for any excuse to skip my run. I woke up with an upset angry tummy. But I knew I needed to push through because I have to log a certain number miles to fit the training plan. If you wanna win, you gotta push it, right! Right?
Finally the sleet stopped and so did my stomach. I grabbed my earphones and dang if the batteries weren’t dead. Oh well. I don’t really have to have music so I started down the road.
At 1.49 miles my GPS watch battery died. *sigh* I would run a little farther down the road to try to get 5 miles in. Before I got home, the sleet started again – just slightly but nonetheless, it was there. Maybe there was a reason for me to go home early
Two days later during a run my phone battery died. This is beginning to be more than coincidence. I think somebody is trying to tell me something.
I’ve been waking up sore and tired. My legs are sore all the time. I can’t stop though. I can’t rest. I have something to prove, you see. (See 2015 resolutions – no longer necessary to prove myself to the world) Taking a rest day was out of the question.
In October I ran my first marathon and my time was HORRIBLE! I had purchased a 26.2 magnet for my car BUT I couldn’t in good conscience put it on my car. Only when I’ve achieve a better time can I wear that little badge of honor.
WHAT THE . . . ????
That’s insane! I ran the 26.2. Only 0.5% of the US population have finished a marathon. Why can’t I just acknowledge I succeeded? Why can’t I just give myself permission to lean back for a little while and be proud of my accomplishments?
Time to rest and recharge and consider 2014 a success. In 2014 I ran my first half, my first 30K and my first marathon. If someone else had accomplished all that, I’d high five them. But since it’s me, it’s not good enough.
So what are the lessons from this disjointed essay?
- Just like the headphones, the watch and the phone, sometimes you have to lay on the couch and plug into THE SOURCE.
- And it’s okay to be satisfied with who you are and what you’ve done.