Long Time Gone

Well Hello! You all may have thought me to have given up, and quite frankly, I'm sort of wondering myself why I haven't.

Last you heard from me, I had a new pair of shoes and a new blister and was bracing myself for (OK - looking forward to) a light training week, especially in light of that new blister.

Monday, I took off. No use aggravating my blister and my foot. Tuesday, I did some cross-training - 30 minutes of cycling - and a weight workout (abs and back/biceps).

Tuesday evening, I donated blood. I wrestled with this appointment because I knew it was going to keep me from two days of training. The friendly people at the local blood bank will ask you to please limit physical activity for 24 hours, but I find that I am weak and pasty-yellow (not even up to pasty-white) for an entire day and that I must have 48 hours. In the end, I surmised that by giving blood, I was giving the gift of life, and the pesky marathon training could just wait for two days.

That meant Wednesday and Thursday were rest days, which was fine me with.

Wednesday evening was a defining moment for me. Greg and I were invited to a local bar called Sam Bonds Garage to see my former guitar teacher perform live. I was shocked to see his email invitation because I had assumed (naturally) that he had disowned me after I was no doubt his worst student, and I never called him back after I requested a leave from lessons while our kitchen and bath were being remodeled (hey - he came to my house for the lessons, so it's not like I was unjustified...). So, there Greg and I sat amid a sea of multi-generational hippies and hipsters at Sam Bonds Garage. The scene made me feel like I was back in college. I was trying to decide if I should order a cheap beer (probably Pabst) or a mixed beverage. Greg says to me "This environment makes me wanna go for a run". WHAT???? I say back to him while picking up my jaw from the slimy, grainy, wooden floor. He explained that such a crunchy college scene beckons him back to the days when he was a cross country star at school. OK - he didn't use the "star" label, he's much too modest, but essentially, like me, the scene reminded him of college, which brought up images of running for him. The most pervasive item from my college years: Cheap Beer. It was then that I realized again that I am no runner, nor will I probably ever be. Greg has been a runner since Junior High. It's now hardwired in his brain. It feels good for him to go out on a run. He has fond memories and a certain nostalgia surrounding periods in his life that included a lot of running. I'm not a runner, even in the tiniest bit. I harbor no warm-fuzzies towards any run I've ever taken. Nor do I ever think to myself "now would be an excellent time to go for a run. In fact - I'd rather go on a long run than sit here and ponder drinking a cheap beer."

So - Friday rolled around and I should have gotten back to the gym. Not surprisingly, I found many excuses not to do so, the main one being (sorry Tia - I'm blaming me, not you) was that my good friend Tia was promoted within our department from Assistant to Account Exec, and we just had to celebrate by going out to lunch. I probably SHOULD have at least done a minimal workout to check out the blister's healing progress and work in those shoes a little more, but no. I went out to lunch instead. I figured "what's one more day?".

Saturday, then, marks my first day back at the gym after some deliberate resting time. Greg was taking Emelyn to a birthday party right across the street at the gymnastics studio, and I decided to forgo the party, as I'd already taken her to a gymnastics class earlier that morning. Had I remembered one small detail: THERE WOULD BE CAKE AT THE PARTY, I probably wouldn't have decided to skip it and do something as healthy as run, but we can't all keep on top of small details all of the time, now can we?

So, as I headed into the gym, I met a little difficulty because almost all of the treadmills were full, except for one, which was only open for 15 more minutes. I jumped on it and signed up for another that would become available at the top of the hour. I decided this would be OK. It's not like I don't stop to stretch after ten minutes or so anyway.

I started my run and I'll be honest. It didn't go all that well. By the time I settled into a groove and a running stride, it was time to switch treadmills. I quickly discovered the new treadmill has a bit of a pacing problem. Once you set your pace, it will slow down and speed up throughout your run. This pacing distraction would have driven me insane, were it not for the constant yearning in my brain for the cake that was just across the street, which was what actually drove me crazy. Throughout my run I kept thinking "I could be eating cake. I could just get dressed, walk across the street, and have a piece of cake right now." I kept searching for the little angel/devil figures on my shoulders as I looked into the mirror, but they remained hidden.

In the end, I logged about 35 minutes on the treadmill. A large portion of it was walking and/or wogging, but I managed to do about 2.5 miles. When I actually ran, I ran a decent 6.5 mile per hour pace, but I couldn't really keep it up. Not exactly a stellar performance, but there is a silver lining. My heel felt OK. The aches and pains I felt a week ago while running were virtually non-existent today. I suppose I'm glad I took off several days of training for recovery, but while I know I did the right thing, I can't help thinking I've taken a step backwards.

I hope to pick up my pace tomorrow and have a better all-around run. Once my legs get used to running again, perhaps they won't feel as heavy.