It Was Bound To Happen

Maybe I was being overly confident. I was brash and cocky after a streak of good runs. And having completed my first 5 mile run on Saturday without a hitch, I was on course w/ my training plan and well on my way to completing those 10 miles come May. And then last night it all went to shit.

I hope you’ve been able to enjoy some of this AMAZING weather we’ve been having. It’s been absolutely gorgeous in Boston; I’m talking short sleeves, flip flops and drinking on the patio weather (not my patio, since I don’t have one, but patios in general provide a great place to get drunk casually sip a refreshing beverage). Anywhoo, this streak of nice weather had me itching to abandon my running tights and gloves for the more comfortable shorts and t-shirts. Last night I planned on doing a nice, easy run, mostly to get outside and enjoy the longer daylight hours after work.

I could tell something was off the minute I stepped outside. On my warm-up walk, I didn’t feel the excitement that usually came with starting my runs. I had mapped out my route, and was anxious to get started and into my groove, so I started running earlier than planned. I don’t know if this was what killed me, or if I was doomed either way, but with that first stride, I knew it was going to be one of those runs.

If you run, you know what I’m talking about. You have your normal runs, where you find your pace, tune everything out, and finish strong. Then there are your kick-ass runs, when your body is like a well-oiled machine and you’re getting admiring looks from passing pedestrians (I’m usually half-blind when I run, so I like to pretend everyone I see is giving me an appreciative glance, when they’re probably scowling at me for veering onto their side of the sidewalk). Then you have the absolutely lousy run. The “why did I ever think I could become a runner/this is bullshit/there’s no way I’m making it to that stoplight, let alone another mile/why do my lungs hate me/where the fuck did my legs go/OMG NEED TO STOP RIGHT NOW/I think that old lady in the walker is passing me” runs.

Last night was one of those runs. It was awful. I tried to blame it on the nice weather; my lungs weren’t used to breathing in non-arctic air, and my body wasn’t ready to sweat so much after a mild winter of running virtually sweat-free. Whatever the reason, I finished my wretched run and stormed into B’s house ready to never run again (not really, but I can be overly dramatic when I’m miserable).

this guy knows what I'm talking about

photo courtesy of Treasure Coast Running

I mapped out my course and saw that I had gone just over 3 miles, which was better than the 2 I had intended. As I was catching my breath and my face was going from bright red back to its usual ruddiness I realized that I hadn’t had one of these runs in a really long time; I couldn’t even remember my last bad run. So in a way, I guess I was due for one. Now that it’s over w/ I can look forward to another stretch of good runs again. Right? God, I hope so. I don’t think I can take another run’s worth of repeating Ace of Bases’ “Beautiful Life” lyrics (don’t judge me, that 80’s 90's beat is immediate motivation*).

*and no, I don’t really have any Ace of Base on my playlist. Except “The Sign.” I mean, who doesn’t.