Life has been busy and I have neglected my blog(s) – I think I’m here today just to reassure you, in case you were concerned, that I’m still alive. Of course I realize the truth is probably more like you didn’t notice. But regardless, I’m here to tell you, my life has been busy.
I’ve been running for the last 4 weeks and it’s been frustrating to say the least. Three miles here, two miles there, four miles here. The Sunday before last, even though I was only “released” to run up to 5 miles (on non-consecutive days) I said fuck it and ran 14 with a couple of girlfriends. It felt good, but damn if I didn’t pay for it the next three days.
What frustrates me the most is when I run it feels as though it’s new. It feels as though I’m starting at base zero. It feels as though I’ve never run more than 4 miles in my life. It feels hard. I hate that. I used to be able to run five miles on auto pilot. Ten miles on semi-auto pilot. Fifteen miles comfortably without much thought. But now? Now my breathing is labored and I feel every inch of the run, every second that I’m out there and I want to quit at 2 miles. I have to continually talk to myself to go the distance I set out to run. Seven weeks of no running and this is what I’m left with. I hate it.
Of course, it goes without saying, I won’t stop because it’s hard. I won’t stop because I can’t breathe and my lungs are burning. I won’t stop because my calves, thighs, knees and ass hurt. I won’t stop because I remember. I remember what the love feels like. I remember what it can feel like; what it has felt like; what it will feel like again at the end of a successful and effortless (or even kind of hard) run, of any length. I remember and I want it back.
Motivation is a bitch we all need to be slapped around by periodically.
My current motivation is my lost love for the run.