I took a week off after the Ragnar Relay. It was partly forced upon me with the stomach virus ripping through our house, but it was also much needed. I would’ve taken the week off even if the family hadn’t been sick. That race took everything out of me – physically, emotionally, and mentally.
This past week I attempted to get back on track. I went to CrossFit twice and went to track night on Tuesday night where I only did a mile because my youngest was there and mostly wanted me to watch him run and walk around the track. My middle guy offered to be my pacer for the few laps I did get in so I could start working on speed. But that was it. 1 mile in the last two weeks. That’s pathetic. Today my daughter invited me on a run around town. She’s training because she wants to join the winter track team and she’s getting in shape. I was exhausted from just getting home from a work conference and I was terrrified because I knew it was going to feel bad. Remember that 1 measly mile I did in the past two weeks? She wanted to do 6-7 miles and I knew I was not able to do that distance at all. We wound up doing 5 even though I was desperately ready to be done at 3 (2.5, ok, ok, 2. I was ready to be done at 2) As usual, my first mile was horrifically long and torturous as my angry calves reluctantly relinquished their vice grip. I had a thousand negative thoughts about how I was finished running for good and this was the last time I was going to lace up my shoes. I vowed never to feel this again. I had to stop every quarter mile for a rest break, a stretch break, a water break, and every other kind of break while I watched my gazelle of a teenage daughter ahead of me, effortlessly making her way down the sidewalk. She’s so beautiful when she runs.
I looked down at my shadow, my dark mirrored elbows swaying in and out and not helping me to propel forward at all, my legs glued together as I shuffled along, my hips as wide as the sidewalk. I listened to my heavy breathing in disgust. My unsteady huffs and puffs were interrupted only by my snot rockets. No more. I’ve done this for years and can be done now. And even though my mind was saying this, my body kept moving forward. I was thankful for that. As I looked up and in the distance saw Charlotte’s long lithe body casually waiting for me at a corner I thought, I’m so glad her running abilities didn’t come from me.
Needless to say, it was a hard run. It felt bad a lot of the time. I waited and waited for my body to warm up, which it eventually did, but not enough. I realized that the past few months my runs have been consistently inconsistent and that needs to change. I need to get back on track with running 3 times a week. I also realized that I desperately need to stretch or do yoga once a week to feel my best when I run. Like the good old days. …Don’t let the smile fool you, the sun was in my eyes and I tend to smile when I have to squint…
Am I glad I went? I sure am. I made it through 5 miles when I wasn’t expecting to do any today! (Okay so that was a real smile because we were almost back to the house and I was really happy I was going to finish 5 miles.) Am I thrilled that my daughter wanted to run with me? You bet I am. Struggle or not, I loved watching her fly across the pavement like a wisp. I loved carrying her water like the good Sherpa that I am. I loved spending the time with her, just us girls runnin’ the town. I can’t wait until she asks me to go again. I promised myself today that I will always say yes.