In an effort to make the train that was pulling in, I may have sprinted a few yards to the concourse. In the disgustingly hot, stuffy, underground station. Clearly a poor choice on my part. An even poorer choice was picking the only car with broken AC. I tried to discreetly wipe the sweat off my brow, but the guy sitting next to me was not fooled. Did I mention the guy sitting next to me was a coworker?
I did learn something from this huge embarrassment (besides the fact that those $4 Old Navy flip flops? Have absolutely NO traction). I was sitting in the train, trying to catch my breath, embarrassed at how heavy I was breathing from a little jaunt down the concourse, when I realized that that was the most running I had done in weeks (so ease up on the dirty looks, folks; I don’t normally sound like I’m having an asthma attack after the 50-yard dash).
My last run is a distant memory. This is not cool. The back/neck pain I was experiencing a few weeks ago has fortunately subsided immensely, but I’m not back to my old self. I wake up every day with a different part of my neck or shoulder or back bothering me (okay, I’m booking that massage RIGHT MEOW).
I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but…I miss running. Before you start laughing, let me say this: no one’s more surprised by this realization than I am.
Even when I was training for Broad Street and my half-marathon, when I was getting in 3-4 runs a week and looking forward to my long runs, I never felt like a runner. I trolled every running blog I could find, and was in City Sports constantly, checking out their new merchandise. I planned my weekends around my Saturday long run.
At the time, it was almost like a chore. I had to get out and get my miles in. But it was always worth it. Now I’d give anything to lace up my sneaks and go on one of my old routes.
I’ve been taking it easy at the gym. I’m either camped out on the stationary bike next to my buddy BO or getting my stretch on. This week, I did Zumba again for the first time. But I’m still drawing the line at running. The last thing I want is to make matters worse and be out of the running game permanently.
Since I’m running less (read: none), obviously I’m eating less, too. Don’t want to pack on the pounds from this little setback. I’ve limited my meals to breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and second dinner. You know, the standard meal times.