We’re getting back into the swing of things. Working out consistently. The only way I can describe Steven for the majority of our runs and workouts is pathologically encouraging. I don’t get how he stays so upbeat. My idea of easing back into things has kind of gone out the window. My whole body felt like a knot this week. Mainly when I tried to use it, but I also noticed it when I was just relaxing. Like, we went to the movies and I realized my neck was struggling to keep my head up. I mean, it’s a good feeling to know that I pushed myself and made my muscles sore. That feeling of accomplishment. Also a good feeling to know that it’s working. Watching myself go up on weights at the gym or run faster miles. And without as much struggle. We did a 6 mile run that was nice and easy (that just means a slower pace. Not that it was actually easy.) I pretty much hated the whole thing. I had this urge the entire time to not only stop, but to literally lie down. Just like on the sidewalk. That’s generally a gauge of what kind of shape I’m in. How long I make it before I just want to lie down. We did another 6 mile run about a week later and had shaved more than 30 seconds off our miles. I didn’t hate it until about mile 5. Progress!
I’m not always sure how Mr Sunshine knows that I need some encouragement. Maybe because I slow down, get quiet or the labored, raspy breathing of someone who really wants to just lie down. I tend to think I hide it well when I am struggling. But he always seems to know. I think the reason is that he really doesn’t care what the reason is that I’m struggling. He reminds me of that drill sergeant from GI Jane. You know when Viggo Mortensen reads that poem by D.H. Lawrence “I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” But I am not a small bird. We went on a 10 miler recently and I felt VERY sorry for myself. I didn’t bring a water source and I was really dehydrated. My mouth was all frothy and dry, I felt dizzy. And grouchy. And pathetic. I kept making Steven walk. And when we went by a bowl of water on the ground that someone had put out for doggies, I was tempted. That water looked amazing. A wild thing would have drank that water. I did not. Instead, I felt sorry for myself. Because I am a human.
It’s hard to find the balance of knowing you’re pushing yourself and trying your best and also knowing your limitations. I have heard people say that running is all mental. Nope. It’s also very physical. I’m planning to be a runner for my whole life. I don’t want to injure myself from overdoing it. Also don’t want that to be an excuse to not try as hard as I can. I guess that is the plight of anyone with ambition. Finding that sweet spot. I mean, that bird may not have ever felt sorry for itself…but it froze to death on a bough. Maybe if it had felt sorry for itself it would have realized it was way too cold and tried to warm up. I get that it’s supposed to be inspirational. But that bird was kind of an idiot. I need a better role model than that bird. A certain amount of self pity may be a good thing. It’s all about balance. Setting realistic goals and taking the steps to achieve them. That’s the human part. I think, for me, the “wild thing” part is in being flexible and forgiving in the way the plan goes. As a human, I want everything to go my way. If it doesn’t, I get defeated. Too much self pity. As a wild thing, I need to accept that life doesn’t always go the way I want it to and I need to adapt and roll with it. Not like “Oh, it’s freezing. Better stay put and die here.” But also not like “I’m getting off this bough and NEVER standing on a bough ever again!” Don’t overthink like a human. Don’t underthink like a dumb bird. But whichever way your thinking is leaning, it seems to build momentum. I feel fortunate to have a clinically encouraging training partner who doesn’t let me ride that runaway train to my pity pot. I’m also a big fan of inspirational books and quotes. Generates a nice pool of thoughts to pull from when I’m down. Team Hoyt videos on youtube. Books by accomplished super humans like David Goggins, Dean Karnazes or this awesome one called Never Too Late about late in life athletes. I need the reminder of what is possible and what I can be capable of. And the perspective that whatever I’m doing is maybe not the worst or hardest thing that anyone has ever done. And that I’ll feel really good when I finish.