So I'm back from the month of work that will forever be known as the-month-that-was-inexplicably-more-painful-than-being-at-trial. I have a couple of weeks before I resume marathon training for my chosen Fall marathon. More on that later.
In the meantime, I had hoped to spend a bit of time this summer, racing some shorter distances. I'd like to get a 10K time that more accurately reflects my fitness, and a 5K time, period.
So this fine 4th of July, (Happy Independence Day all you Americans! Thanks for letting me live here!), I decided to run a 5K on Roosevelt Island.
Last night, however, I had second thoughts. I've run very little since the marathon (at most 15-20 miles per week), and had to skip a ton of workouts because of work. I wasn't eating particularly well either, so I gained a few pounds and am probably chronically dehydrated from drinking waaaay too much coffee. So, you know, not really feeling like I'm gunna be running a lightning fast race. But I figured that it would still be a good fitness test. And besides, its either feel like this, or dead tired from marathon training... this is probably a better time to be running a 5k.
But then I realized on a 3 mile shakeout last night, that my posterior shin splints were still bugging me because I have been lazy about doing calf dips and stretching/rolling. So before bed, I donned my compression socks, hoping their magic would work overnight on my calves. They did... kind of.
But then I woke up this morning with a stomach that felt like a cement mixer. I can't remember what I ate last night, so obviously nutritional planning was my number 1 priority for this race. I decided to drink a ton of water, and hopefully feel fine before the race. And if not I could always pull off the side for an "intermission". I mean, who hasn't wanted to blow chunks in the middle of a 5k, right?
But then I looked at the weather when I woke up this morning. 78 degrees and 95% humidity. Aaaaarrgghh, who needs to drink water to hydrate when you can breathe it in?? "Suck it up, princess", I told myself, figuring that there is always some bad weather condition, and everyone has to deal with it. So I got dressed, and headed down to the train.
But then my train was delayed, leaving me very little time to get to the race, warmup, use the loo etc. I could've caught a different train but I reaaaaaally didnt want to run down to that station....
I realized I was on my 38th "but" and had by now generated at least 5 excuses to not do something that was supposed to be fun and an enjoyable way to kick off a holiday. I realized that if I'd actually wanted to run the damn thing, I would've paid more attention to my calves, eaten right, drank enough water, not cared about the humidity, and run to get the other train. But I didn't... so I didn't.
So I went home, all in my race getup. Which is no tutu and colored paint, at least.
|All dressed up, too lazy to go|
Now I guess I'll just go to the gym then chilax the rest of the day. There is another race in a couple of weeks. I'm sure my body will feel PERFECT, and the weather will be PERFECT, and I'll run a lightening fast race, and be on top of the world. I'll let you know how that pans out.
Do you ever find yourself making excuses not to go to a race? At what point do you give in, knowing that its just for fun (for most of us)?
Do you feel the need to fill out your racing "resume" by having a PR for every distance, or is that just us type-A OCD runners?
Will I ever run a 5K? That's mostly a rhetorical question. But if there was an answer, it would be that its looking highly unlikely.