B’s out on a long run (Vegas Marathon is starting to creep up on the horizon) and since I’m such a loving and generous fiancee, I let him take Andele. I’m sure Andele appreciated it… I’ve been neglecting him lately. A lot.
Training these days has been more torturous than I ever remember. Not because the miles are hard, or that I’m in pain, or the weather is unbearable. My body has surprisingly been holding up pretty well, and minus a few hiccups in the schedule, I’ve completed almost all of my long runs
with ease without dying.
So physically, I’m on par. I’m holding up. Doing well. Mentally? I’m a flabby sack of worthlessness. It takes all my effort to lace up my shoes and get out the door – and out-and-back routes are the only thing that keep me from cutting each run short. I spend 98% of my time counting down the steps/minutes/miles, and haven’t gotten caught up in a blissful “runner’s high” in weeks.
Running has lost its “escape” appeal, and has become a chore. My training schedule nags at me like a never-ending to-do list. And like most things (come to find out), it only gets worse the longer you put it off.
And I REALLY don’t like being told what to do.
So there’s my little running rant. As soon as the afternoon heat starts to wear down I’m going to head out and attempt 15 miles. And not because that asshole training plan is telling me to. I’m going to do it because I want to. (Or at least, I’ll tell myself that.)
[B just got back and finished 10.5, so I guess I have to run at least that far…]
Would the real Runner Sarah please stand up? I miss her.