Even Chubby Runners Get the Blues

It's easy to stop blogging when you don't want to talk about the not-so-rock-star training days.

First, the Black Plague came to our household. The little one got it first, followed by myself and then my husband. Sleepless nights and gastrointestinal apocalypses led to some lack of disipline in the training department:

Not bad, but only two running sessions and no trips to the gym. Then, I was able to hit another milestone for distance this past Tuesday:



Then, the weather, more sickness...led to another gym session and running session skipped. I was determined to get out there yesterday morning for another 2.75 mile run. As I geared up, I heard the wind HOWLING against the windows. Husband came back from his run, said the wind wasn't that bad for him. I head out.



To quote Pooh and say it was a "blustery" day, puts it mildly. The wind whipped at and around me. The storm from the night before scattered acorns, twigs, and BRANCHES across my running path. It was hard to keep a pace and look out for obstacles at the same time.

Finally, somewhere a 1/2 mile into it, my inner critic convinced the rest of my body - including my heart - to just give in. So I walked the route. I kept trying to push myself and start running, and the wind would pick my hat up off my head, or my shins started to bark. Until I stopped trying, and walked home, defeated.

However, as I walked home, I did try and reason with myself and not beat myself up. It was a looooong walk home. It made me realize and appreciate what I do run in the mornings. It didn't feel this long when I'm jogging it!

When I got home, I didn't even want to talk about it with my husband. Until he cajoled it out of me, where I cried and told him I was definitely NOT a rock star today.

"Honey, some days you're Freddie Mercury. And some days, well, you just have to settle for being Courtney Love."

And he's right. I have to remember that if every run was fantastic, wonderful, "Chariots of Fire" level amazingness? It would get boring. And I would get bored, and I'd stop.

Now? Now I want to get back out there. I've got three miles to tackle on Tuesday, and it's going to be a "We Will Rock You" run, not a "Bruise Violet" run.