The Morning Run

Its nothing but the darkness, the dawn, the crickets and me.

The world is quiet, and it seems to me, at least in this sleepy subdivision on these mornings, that I am the only one awake, certainly the only one out, before the clocks ticks over to 6AM.


This morning the drizzle and a little touch of humidity greeted me out the door.  It was both perfect for a summer morning run, and a bit too hard to breathe in, as my pace ticked up by a minute from mile one to two, and half a minute more from mile two into three.  Mile four was just there because I needed to go home.

Maybe I could have run forever.  Maybe another hour.  Maybe just until the storm really rolled in and that drizzle became a down pour.  Maybe I could have run away in the morning dimness.


I’ve skipped the run for about four days straight.  No injury.  No issues…I just… wanted to choose not to run for a bit, while I could…before I started my training for the next marathon (Which, honestly, could be Sunday if I run with a friend training for a 100M, or could just be the Beat the Blerch, this September – if I listen to my husband and just chill out for a month).  I just wanted to be lazy.  Just for a bit.

All I learned is that I cannot do this.  I cannot just skip a run or workout just because.  I get wound up… too much energy, with no where to go.  I did almost a full day of body weight exercises and core training, but it didn’t wear me out the same way.  It was like having a fire building up inside of me, and as I shook and vibrated, and felt myself loosing my grip on being a personable human being… I felt like a caged animal.  I felt trapped, despite the freedom of movement.  I needed to run, and I wasn’t…and it was building up to disastrous results.


If you’re thinking I was showing signs of withdrawal….YES… Yes I was.  I was grumpy, beyond explanation.  I was angry at things.  I couldn’t reason through problems as fast or as successfully.  My self-loathing found an opening and started tearing me apart…  And finally, I had to run.


The run didn’t feel like it was all that good or bad.  It barely registered for the first five miles.  But then, with the training group I was coaching, as I struggled on the last of the hill repeats to keep up with the sprinter in the group, the grumps and anger and some of the hate finally let go.  I was finally able to laugh again.  I didn’t hesitate to go out with my friends after the training run.


I woke up early this morning to run.  Battling skunk musk (so awful) in the air, humidity, drizzle, and a driver who seemed to think that they have the right to run me over if I’m on “their driveway” sidewalk portion – I was alone in my head, and kinda hating it, if i’m being honest.  Until my thoughts zoned in on the upcoming Triple Ironman that my friend is doing, and the races my training group aims for, and the Bourbon Chase…  I lost myself in thoughts of running beautifully difficult rolling hills in central Kentucky and in the hopes for better training as this year closes out.


And in loosing myself, I found me again.  The me I can tolerate.  The me that can go to work and doesn’t have to forcibly sit quietly to avoid saying something unnecessarily mean.  The me that knows that when my brain thinks, “nobody cares what I do in life” its a lie and this me can trust that it’s a lie.

Lesson learned.
No more long, unnecessary breaks from running.  No more letting myself become that me.

Time to buckle-down anyway.  I’ve got a friend to pace into a 4:30 hr marathon, and so many great runs to pull off.


Cheers!

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