Friday, May 27, 2011
W6D3: Mas O Menos
In First Year High School Spanish, lesson #1 is introducing yourself & exchanging meaningless pleasantries (useful...thanks, Mrs. Mickelson). One of the few things I remember from that exercise is how to tell your new Latin friend that you are feeling mediocre.
New Latin Friend: "Como estas?"
Me: "Mas o menos."
Literal translation: More or less. My translation: Meh.
This morning's run was quite the mixed bag of highs & lows--meh. I've been slacking a bit, which had a way of compounding on itself to slacking a lot. Last night Dave, sensing my inertia (or lack thereof) was getting to a critical juncture asked me what I needed to get me out the next morning. Face down into my pillow, I mumbled that my sports bras were all dirty & promptly fell asleep. He stayed up & washed, dried & laid out clean gear for me...tricksie devil. I couldn't just ignore his effort & snooze my alarm after he did all of that for me.
When I turned on my iPod to see what C25K had in store for me, I almost turned back around & gave Dave the blow off: run 25 minutes straight?!?! What kind of shenanigans is that?
I decided to mix my route up & just wander the neighborhood because my motivation was low & I didn't want to have a visual of exactly how far I still had to go before I would be done. It felt like a good choice at the time...
When I finished my warm-up & started running I was 100% certain that my legs had been replaced with pool noodles filled with Swedish fish...rubbery, plastic-y worthlessness. I pushed through those fish & found a groove & actually started to feel good. Maybe I could run for 25 minutes--not fast, but sufficient.
I found the zone. The area was hillier than my recent route, so it was a little harder, but it was good. I was making good progress & was avoiding looking at my remaining time...dare I say I was feeling good until...
"Super 8?!?! There's not a Super 8 by my house." Dag-nabit I got lost in my own neighborhood again. I REALLY thought I was going the opposite direction of the business district that is near my home. Nope. Not only did I end up running by a VERY busy street during rush hour, but it was all uphill & I KNEW that I had gone too far out to be able to be back by the end of my half hour.
As I was gasping up the hill I had 8 minutes to go. All I wanted was to make it to the corner & off of the busy road in the 8 minutes so I could walk the rest of the way home in peace. As I passed multiple car dealerships, all I could do was fantasize about hotwiring a car & driving home...except I don't know how to hotwire. Blast!
I got to the corner in 5 minutes, which was nice, but then I completely ran out of gas. I lost my legs & had to stop. And then I cried (probably more like gasped & sputtered). I only ran 22 of the 25 minutes. Even now I am so ashamed & angry. Did I really "have" to stop? Would it have killed me to run for 3 more minutes? What did I gain by quitting besides a sense of failure at not being able to complete a run for the first time?