I decided yesterday with a heavy heart to downgrade from the full marathon in March to the half marathon. I realized that running was nothing something I was finding joy in and the idea of those training runs looming over the next two months, pretty much made me want to cry – and I did.
I got home later than I wanted to from work and that meant that running outside + cooking dinner + laundry + cleaning to prepare for Friday couldn’t all happen at once. This meant I would be running on the treadmill, no big deal, not a huge let down, but it still sparked me in a negative light. I was tired, my achilles tendon on my left side was throbbing, and after some battling back and forth I went upstairs and changed. I got on the treadmill and after approximately 0.10 a mile I stopped. I started crying. I hated this. I hate running. I hate running because I am not getting better at it, which is my own fault. I’ve relied on the treadmill which has made training for outdoor races impossible. I’ve been comparing myself to other people and their paces which just makes me angry at myself for not being faster.
I lost the point of it.
I went upstairs and got in the shower and cried for about 15 minutes knowing that with my mentality, workload, school load and such, I could not train for a marathon in March. I knew I had to immediately drop down from the full to the half component before the deadline – which even though is in January – if I didn’t do it know I may, in my crazy state, try to talk myself into running the full and thus – with a promise – injuring myself or going stark raving mad.
The rest of the evening was kind of a blur. I went in and out of fits of wanting to cry, feeling like a failure, and desperately wanting whatever it was that I had before back. Where did my passion go? Where did this desire to go out and run and run and run leave to? Last fall when I was training for the half, like clock work, every run day I would go home, change clothes, and head out. I was running 6-7 miles on WEEK DAYS. Now I’m like “My long run is 7. I can’t even hit 8 on my training plan.” I talk myself into 2 miles, and hope that will be enough.
It’s not enough.
So after taking yesterday off, my achilles tendon isn’t stellar, but it’s not throbbing. I’m doing stretches of it at work today and when I get home I am doing 3 miles, intervals of 3 minutes at 5.9 mph, and 30 seconds a 4.0 mph on the treadmill. Why on the treadmill you ask? Because I need to not feel daunted today with terrain and hills. Wednesday I plan on – if I get home from work early enough – doing 4 miles outside. If Wednesday is too late, I’ll do an easy 2 on the treadmill, and then Thursday I’ll run the 4 outside after work.
Friday I have 4.5 planned outside that I will do. Saturday I’ll rest and Sunday I’ll do the 10k road race. I’ll get back on track with this. I’ll get my head back in the game. I know what my body is capable of, and I know I can do it. I just have to decide that I want to do it, and that I can do it. Because I can do it. (I can.)
So I am taking a step back. Looking at November with other things going on in my life and realizing where I can and can’t do things.
I need to take care of myself first, and here is me trying to do just that.