Thursday, January 22, 2015

Back to Last

I went out to run with the people I don't know again.

Good news, I wasn't dead ass last this week.  Even though I was at one point.

I don't get to claim the honor of that position today, because I had to cut the run short.  At mile 4.something I made a turn and returned to my car in just over 5 miles.

See, at home I had a few important things going on, and my home schedule took precedence over 2 more miles.

Part of being a galactic badass is knowing when to say no to two more miles.  It's knowing when to say "I would love to run, but ...."

Because if I've learned one thing about myself, it's that if I push the run today, and choose to run the miles, it taints the run with worry.  The drive home is driven by "Will I get home in time?"  And next week it would be harder to get up to go run the early morning miles at all.

All that is remembered is the stress.

I don't want to remember the stress.  I want to savor the run.

I want to stop and think, did I really go out in sub freezing temperatures and run 5 miles at Oh Freaking Early Hour?  Did I do that?  Did I run so hard that I was dry heaving at an intersection?  Did I push myself?  I know I did.

So yeah, the run was hard, again.

I, again, started off and thought, "seriously? that is not a warm up pace!"  The splits don't lie, the 8:26 warm up mile was an eight twenty six warm up mile.

I didn't even bother to complain in my head though, not even in the moment.  I just sucked it up and put on my game face.  I thought to myself that I had probably lost my sanity somewhere at the hospital in the last 3 days of work, but hey, why sweat the small stuff?

Sanity is not on my training plan.  Running is.

So I ran.

There was freezing fog swirling in the pitiful beams cast from our headlamps.  Sweaty shoulders blew past me without even a nod, and I could feel the heat of the Back to Last crew even as it mingled with the chilly air.  I wasn't dead ass last, because I knew I was cutting the run short.  I better not let myself be dead ass last.  I needed to make my miles matter in every way.  So I crawled my way forward and rubbed elbows with the back of the pack.

I didn't even care that I was at the back of the pack.

I was no one, I was anyone.  I was running with strangers.  I ran with them until I felt my lungs and heart would explode and then I sucked in some more air and pushed harder.  I was out there doing everything I could to hang.

I honored every step of every mile with my maximum effort.

It got done.

And it'll get done again.

~ savor the run ~ respect the distance ~

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