Monday, May 16, 2005
A journey through the annals of self-sabotage
|5.3||55:42||Home - Lovers Pt. - PG Track - Home||10:31 mins./mi.|
Fear manifests itself in the strangest ways.
In case, dear reader, you haven't noticed, I've been having a little trouble getting back on the training track since the big race. The immediate reasons are many -- sleeping late, making other plans, going out to dinner, dawdling at work, having a belly full of malt liquor -- basically, doing anything BUT training in earnest.
Those are the acute reasons. But what are the reasons beyond the reasons? Like Geraldo Rivera, I will now give the story behind the story. I think the real reasons are this: running is painful sometimes. Running is hard. At times, it is unpleasant, espcially in the first three miles. So here are the real reasons: I'm lazy and I'm afraid.
Today's run, my first outdoors, was a case in point. For four or five days, I had been promising myself I would get running today. And for four of five days, I've sat on my duff watcing repeats of Curb Your Enthusiasm and playing video games. It had to end.
This morning, I hit my snooze bar twice. I was running late. I couldn't find the armband to my ipod. Then I couldn't find my key. I wasted a half hour trying to get ready to run. I considered staying in, but I didn't know what I could write on this blog if I didn't run. After all, what's a running blog without running?
So I went out. And I ran. Down to the ocean, down the coast, up into the forest. And it hurt a little bit. And I huffed and puffed like Louie Anderson did when he found out The Family Feud was cancelled. But I ran my route. And I sweat. And I feel better now than I have in days.