Tuesday has shown its lovely face again, which means two things:
1. We survived Monday
2. My Monday night “run” didn’t kill me.
Sometimes I don’t know why I do things to myself that I know better than to do. For example, why do I even bother opening up a box of cereal with the thought that it’ll only be one bowl and then I’m done? Some people can relate to the joy that cereal as a meal/snack can bring, but also the temptation to go back for round two, or even three. Another “how many times are you going to_____” moment for me is “reading just one more chapter” in bed before I go to sleep. One chapter = twelve chapters = going to bed at midnight = cranky runner in the morning = a LONG, 5 minute drive into work for Dear Hubby.
Last night I affirmed that I am NOT an after school/evening runner/workout gal. My usual Monday routine is for a rest day, but Monday my mind was all over the place, so I figured a nice run would help get myself together. Ahhh no.
Run Number One:
The majority of my runs, no matter the time of day, start out a little blah. It might be due to the sleepies still in my eyes or just the jolt to my system that going from Couch Slouch to kicking the crap out of 5 miles brings. But this run, from the moment I picked up the pace, to the moment I discontinued my Nike Run Plus app, I wanted to throw in the towel. Mentally I wasn’t feeling like continuing; I thought I had hit “5k” as my distance goal on my nano, but hit the “3k” instead. So when I thought I had killed 3 MILES, I was really proud of myself for not ending my run early. When I realized that it was only 3 KILOMETERS, I DIE I DIE I DIE I DIE.
I kept on walking through my cool-down, and some idiot voice in my head said, “You can do two more miles. You’re a rockstar.” As it turns out, I was more of a Kenny G than a Led Zeppelin.
Run Number Two:
Yup. Confirmed. GET OFF THE TREADMILL!
I would like to pat myself on the back and say that I decided to officially end my run last night, not because I’m a punk and couldn’t do it, but I felt my running form go all wakka-dooh and flimsy. I was concentrating so hard on mentally putting one foot in front of the other that I knew I would end up causing an injury from flaying my legs in the wrong way.
Lesson of the day: Enough is enough. Kenny Rogers, you are right my friend. About Poker, not the facelift.
This morning’s run was WAY improved! I ran with more confidence, more attention to the needs of my body, and I don’t live in fear that I’ve put myself in danger of an injury due to stubbornness. And just so I’m not totally disappointed in my Monday night performance, I should remind myself of the miles that I have gotten in for January so far: