Sitting here writing is a poor substitute for running. A very poor substitute. But it’s dark out, I’ve run twice in the last three weeks, and I’d hate to be sore from a run tonight for my more ambitious trail run tomorrow.
Wait, that sounds familiar.
I didn’t run on the 31st because January 1 would be the perfect day to head to the mountains for a good run and solid vert. I woke up at 9am on the 1st and sat around in bed for a few hours until it was late enough that I no longer had time to drive to the trailhead, run, and get back in time to watch the Rose Bowl, which I told myself I couldn’t watch delayed (probably more as an excuse to delay running than anything). The thought of instead just heading out for a short run from home bored me. January 2 was booked solid and I knew I couldn’t run, but hey, Friday the 3rd would be another superb day with beautiful weather. Well I woke up at noon, leaving me 4 hours before sunset to get out for a run. I didn’t.
Rewind. I spent 10 days in Carlsbad, CA, for Christmas and brought along my running gear and the promise of summer-like running, reading to enjoy the sun on my bare skin and sweat dripping from my face. I ran once for 4 miles.
In September and October I spent so much time coaching the high school cross country team that my own running, though nearly daily, suffered a lack of any trail running and very low total mileage, vertical gain, and intensity, instead just jogging a few miles at most around the high school while the kids worked out. That was totally worth it. The happiness I got from coaching was unparalleled, and taking an off-season of that sort from my own training would only help make me stronger and healthier. I emerged from the season motivated to get back into it as winter approached.
Instead I see my training log showing 29 miles in November and 36 miles in December. Sure, there are 4 trail runs in there, but nothing like the at least weekly trail running I was doing last winter and foresaw for myself this winter. Why haven’t I been running. I don’t know.
It seems that every night I go to bed with dreams of adventure, only to wake with apathy and lethargy. As time passes and the sun sets I lose the opportunity to achieve my ambitious goals and instead of then getting out and moving my legs for even 15 or 20 minutes around town, I stay put.
I know that hope isn’t lost. Last Autumn as I recovered from injury, I ran with similar frequency and was able to turn that into a few months of my best running every come February through May. What I do know is that the fitness I’ve lost over the last 4 months will mean that if I do finally manage to get myself off of my ass and out the door, running will not be as easy and carefree as I know it should be. I’ll be slow, I’ll be sore, and I won’t be able to do the things I want to do. I also risk injury with too quick and foolish a return.
Here I sit tonight and, as usual, I see tomorrow as a great opportunity. I hear the trail up Mount Si is clear and glorious. I want to do that. I promise myself I’ll do that tomorrow, but I’ve learned in recent weeks that that’s a promise all to easy to break. No matter what, I HAVE to run tomorrow, even for 2 miles from my door. This is unacceptable. The thing of it is that I haven’t lost my love of running. Every run I’ve done recently has been great, and the trail runs especially have filled my with so much joy. So why the hell can’t I get out the door? I don’t know but this has to change.
As busy as I was with classes the last few months, I couldn’t wait for winter break to come so that I could get to the mountains a few times a week. I blew that and wasted the opportunity. I start up with classes again on Monday, but I need to make sure that at least every other weekend I get out on the trails, and at least twice during the week I run a couple miles on my way home. I’ve failed motivating myself, so if you’ve read to here, please help me do this. I know I’ll be happier when I’m running regularly again. If you’re in the area, come and join me for a run some time! Fast or slow, I don’t care, as long as we can be out moving through the world on our own two feet, life will be good.
I remind myself today of the etymology of this ‘blog’s name and have to ask myself sincerely: why not?