Running: We’re on a Break
This week I broke up with running. It’s a short term break, I hope. It was mutual. Running and I were sick of each other. I was sick of the time spent, the early mornings, and the constant need to work towards something; running was sick of my bitching and lack of progress. So, at 5.45am on a Friday in the rainy darkness of Central Park, we called it quits.
Of course we called it quits at the furthest point in the park from my house and I had to run home. And it turned out I wasn’t so broke up with running that I didn’t run pretty quickly through the dark pathway back to the main loop. I ran home, and made it home in time for another hour in bed.
It’s a funny sport, this. I talk about running all the time. This whole weekend I was telling everyone I knew that we were on a break, that I wasn’t running until who knows when. When I hear about someone rocking out their amazing 20 milers, I get a pang of jealousy – why can’t that be me? I constantly feel that I’m not meeting my goals, but I’m not meeting my goals because I’m not working hard enough, and I’m not working hard enough because I’m not enjoying it enough right now.
It could be a low after the high of Ragnar two weeks ago. It could be because of Ragnar I didn’t really end up with a step-back week (I skipped a couple of runs pre-Ragnar but then got all the miles back during it). It could be that I’ve been running 40 mile weeks for the last month and I’m used to 30s. It could be because 90% of my thoughts this week were constant schedule adjustments to get a 12 mile recovery run in, a 10 mile tempo run in, and a 16 mile long run in. Newsflash: none of those have happened. It could be because I don’t have a step-back week until taper time.
Mostly, it’s because when I go running, I’m sick of my own head.
Have you ever broke up with running? Hated it so much that you never wanted to put one foot in front of the other again?