Last year I had a dismal season of running, but in spite of that, I enjoyed just enough success in order to ask myself: If I can set these PB’s (personal bests) with such a patchy season, what will I be capable of if I actually train properly?
Unfortunately, my dismal season has been followed by an even more dismal off-season. Usually, I manage to keep going in the winter, even if it’s endless boring runs on the treadmill at the gym. This time round, I just haven’t seemed to have it in me.
I have run a mere handful of times since my half-marathon in October, and I have not run at all since participating in the Resolution Run on New Years Day. I tell myself that my dearth of running is due to a pinched nerve in my back followed almost immediately by a cold, but how much of that is true? And how much of it is merely an excuse?
In two weeks’ time, I will be starting my 2012 season of training. I have a coach – someone who knows what she’s doing, knows what I’m capable of and will not hesitate to hold me accountable if she sees me slacking off. Despite my recent form, I have motivation. I have goals and I fully intend to accomplish them.
And so I decided that today I was going to run, come hell or high water. I diligently laid out my running clothes and packed my gym bag. I set my alarm last night and went to bed.
Only to wake up a full half-hour after I was supposed to. What had happened to the alarm? Clearly I had not set it right. My run would have to wait another day.
Immediately, I put a stop to that line of thinking. Come hell or high water, remember? I accessed my work email, clicked onto my calendar, and saw that I had a nice clear block of time right around lunchtime. I scheduled it in as running time, repacked my gym bag, and took it to work with me.
During the course of the morning, I discovered that an independently run gym right beside my office had been taken over by the fitness club group that I’m a member of. Sweet! This meant I would not have to go schlepping around on the subway in order to get my run in.
At the gym, I got onto a treadmill and set it for 35 minutes. I had been out of it for a while – no need to push myself on the distance when my main goal was simply to get back into it.
I’m not too hung up on the distance I covered, mainly because I don’t actually know what it was. The distance that my training watch tells me is probably inaccurate. I have not recalibrated my foot pod since replacing its battery. And because the treadmill has a built-in TV screen with full cable access, I wasn’t paying attention to the stats on the display.
I was more concerned with how hard it was, how exhausted I felt. I gave serious thought to stopping after 24 minutes, but I knew that would leave me feeling dissatisfied. I took a thirty-second walking break, and then resumed running at a slightly slower pace. And somehow, I made it for the full 35 minutes. I wasn’t hurting, and I wasn’t out of breath – I was just tired.
As I reflect on the run, I have a choice. I can feel bad about how hard it was and how exhausted I felt. Or I can feel good about the fact that I did what I set out to do anyway. I do believe this short run gave me the kick-start I’ve been needing to get myself on the go again.
Have I rediscovered my running mojo? Perhaps not entirely – not yet – but it’s very close, lurking somewhere nearby.
