The eerie silence on this blog is fitting, no?
The eerie silence of my lack of running mirrors that of this blog.
I am quite certain I have not even run 30 miles total in the last 2.5 months. I have not even run longer than 6 miles since the race. Following the race, I was on a pretty good high. I had met my soft time goal and managed to work my way through a successful training cycle. Then, the holidays came. We all got very ill. I was sick for almost a month. Running seemed to fall to the waaay, wayside. I stopped reading running blogs regularly because I felt myself unable to relate to the obsession of early morning runs, treadmill paces, weekly long runs and races all over the country. I couldn't relate to the run love that everyone was exuding. I wasn't feeling it in anymore.
I kind of stopped caring.
Four years of running, obsessing and training, and all in one month I was ready to give it all up.
You guys, 2014 was a tough year. I am not sure I know enough words to be able to describe in full how challenged we were, with family drama, illness, stress beyond measure. I gained some weight outside of the scope of the normal few pounds here and there. Sure, I could get my pants on, but the fit wasn't quite the same. I even managed to tear the seams of one of my favorite pairs of skinny jeans, which used to fit perfectly and even kind of loosely at one point. I recall pulling them on and feeling like a plump asian sausage. And yet, I threw on a long sweater and called it a day. I am sure that day I ended up unbuttoning the pants after a meal, because those jeans had no more room to give. Kind of like me. I ran intermittently. I bombed my 3rd half marathon. I shuffled through a 54 mile team Rainer to Ruston relay, pulled by the other 5 strong team members, including my casual runner husband. After the relay, I ended up taking a long summer break. I didn't even miss running.
I could not get myself together! I felt fat, out of shape, discouraged and plain gross.
As the weather started to cool in September, it felt like the drama of 2014 was starting to subside. J and I signed up for the Seattle half in December, determined to conquer the course after it had gotten the better of me last year. My training began slowly, and I ramped up the miles as the weather cooled. I even managed to convince myself to wake up early to jump on the treadmill a couple times a week. I focused mainly on speed and hills. I started using my fuel for long runs, and I even had a couple of race run practices around my neighborhood. I was starting to feel alive again with running.
The race came and went, and I had a great time. I wore shorts in 25 degree weather, and yes I got quite a few "she's crazy" looks from those bundled up in puffy vests and long pants. I met my time goal of 2 hrs. I felt strong and happy.
Then the rest of December/January happened, and now here I am.
I am sitting here drinking coffee, up early on a paid holiday off from work, while the rest of the house is fast asleep. I am about to go meet my friend for 7 morning miles. I am actually pretty excited. I haven't felt this way in so long.
I have since lost the stress weight of 2014, and am feeling relatively back to normal. I still wear those torn jeans but the seams are stretching much less than they used to, and yes I still need to wear long tops to cover the evidence. But they fit like normal again. Now, all I need now to is to fit running back into this puzzle piece here, and I'll start to feel a little more like myself.