Come On, Get Happy

Come On, Get Happy

I was all rested and excited to do my long run yesterday – and then it rained. It rained all morning. I hate running in the rain. As I’ve said before, it’s less due to the experience of being wet and more because I don’t want my phone to go bye-bye. And I need to run with my phone because I am very technology-dependent.

So as I always do when the weather is crappy, I figured I’d just switcheroo Sunday’s run and Monday’s strength training. I did two Fitness Blender workouts: a 20-minute lower body no-weights one (mostly squats, lunges, and Jane Fonda Workout-style leg lifts) and a 40-minute upper body one that I like a lot because it is literally for people who get bored easily.

Luckily this morning, whatever rain happened overnight had stopped by 6am, so I headed out for 10 miles on a Monday instead of a Sunday. Today is technically a holiday (even though I am, as I write this, on my way into work), so there weren’t too many cars on the road. I ate a little before I left and went to the bathroom plenty of times (THANKS COLD BREW) but I could immediately sense that this wasn’t going to be one of my faster runs.

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It’s my long run and I’ll stop if I want to

I probably got four and a half hours of sleep last night (five hours in bed with a couple of waking ups) and while this might be a tolerable level of shuteye to drag my meat sack through a typical work day, I could FEEL it on this run. Everything felt heavy. I’ve been watching a lot of running form videos lately, so I paid extra attention to form this morning: making sure my feet hit the ground right under my hips, my stride wasn’t too long, I was landing on the middle part of my foot, my arms were at a 90 degree angle and not swinging side to side – all of that stuff. I think it helped. I mean, my pace wasn’t DISASTROUS or anything, just a little slower than I’m used to.

During the run I thought about this, about how slow I felt and how it felt like my pace would need an explanation. An apology. Then I started thinking about how easily we make ourselves feel bad for the DUMBEST shit – things that wouldn’t phase us at all if we were talking about any other human being besides ourselves. Like running 10 miles at a SLIGHTLY SLOWER THAN USUAL pace. I think it’s beneficial every now and then to remind myself of this ancient proverb: NOBODY FUCKING CARES.

Yet I still felt compelled to write all about it here, didn’t I?

After a few months of slight but consistent increases in distance, my long runs have been “stuck” at 10 miles for a few weeks. (I put “stuck” in quotes because normally that word indicates a position outside of our control, which is not the case here). I think *~{TEN MILES!}~* was my goal for so long that part of me is feeling a sense of satisfaction and contentment with just being there – but I can’t stay complacent. I need to keep finding ways to push myself. Otherwise I’ll die. That’s how it works, right?

I was so sweaty that after I got back home, I tried taking a picture of all the wet hair stuck to the back of my head because I thought it looked cool. I don’t like glamour shots. I saw a selfie on someone’s running blog recently that was taken after she ran like, 8 miles, and she was legit in full eye makeup and false lashes. Like, kudos? But I don’t got time for that. Here is my sweaty neck and incredibly old tattoo. Enjoy.

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Enjoy

 

 

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