purpleshoe runs

Thanks for listening to me whine last week. And thanks even more for your thoughtfulness. A suggestion I got in response (from several people) was to get my yoga on. (Or in my case, uh, start doing it.) I’ve never been into it, but it can’t hurt, right? When we go to Hong Kong in a few weeks (see what a jerk I am? I have one of those great vacations coming up and yet WHINE WHINE WHINE) I plan to take a few classes and download some podcasts or find some DVDs.

This week has been pretty lackluster training wise – I definitely don’t feel like I’m firing on all cylinders, but it was still an improvement from the week prior, which I’ll take. I have a little IT band thing bothering me so I’ve been spending more time with my foam roller, but otherwise physically things are good. Any struggles I’ve had are really more centered around the fact that the treadmill is becoming so so SO boring. (Also, new shoes, please get here! Pretty sure too many miles on the current two pairs in my rotation are to blame for the aforementioned IT band pain.)

I ended the week with 47.5 miles, and February was 185 miles, which I think might be a high for me. So even if I felt like I was slogging through a lot of those miles about to meet my untimely demise because surely I was about to DIE OF BOREDOM, I’m keeping my promise to myself to keep up a good base while we’re here. And I guess that’s something.

I’ve been in one of those moods this past week where almost anything can push me to tears – have you ever been there? Can’t get my headphones untangled? Tears. Spilled coffee all over the counter?  Tears. Snarl in my hair that won’t come out? Aaaand tears. (Are you seeing a theme here?) During one of my random outbursts of crying like a small child, Mr. Engineer said something that’s helping me change how I think about, well, things.

“You’ve been having a tough couple of days, huh?” he asked.

*Sniffle* “Yeah. I’m just not getting any better at this.” *Snot everywhere. Unattractive sobbing. More sniffles*

“Yeah, I suppose. Mile 26 of a marathon isn’t easier than the first one is it?”

Wait, what’s that now?

He said it so matter-of-factly, so casually, I don’t think he meant to make some big sweeping generalization…but it got me thinking. Why am I so convinced this is supposed to get easier? Why do I waste so much energy being frustrated that I’m not better at this a year later?

For me, the hardest miles of a marathon are those ones in no-man’s-land around 15 or 16. You’re past the half, but uh, crap. There are still like 10 miles left. It’s certainly not when I’m congratulating myself on how great an accomplishment it is to have run 16 miles. And it’s definitely not when I’m thinking “WHY IS THIS GETTING HARDER AND NOT EASIER DON’T UNDERSTAND OMG!” To expect mile 16 to feel better than the first mile (while I realize it can if you know what you’re doing) is just silly. It’s supposed to be hard. Well that somewhere-in-the-middle mile marker is about where we’re at in this little adventure right now. There are still at least 10 to go.

I don’t mean to make some cheesy life=marathon bumper-sticker type generalization, but, damn. Maybe I’d be happier if instead of wondering why I was some kind of mutant for not liking it here, I just accepted the fact that it’s ok to not like it. No need to feel bad about it, right?

I fell apart somewhere around 15-16 in Fargo a couple years ago. While at least a million things ran through my mind that day, never once was one of them “wahhhh this hard I want to quit.” It was always “get to that tree,” salvage this mile,” “YOU BOUGHT A FINISHER’S JACKET YOU ASS YOU HAVE TO FINISH!”

So to myself, I say the same thing that eventually got me to finish line that day:

Suck it up. You can hate it, but you still have to finish.

Happy running.

Remember when I last posted (like a month ago or something) and said I’d run 26 miles on my 26th birthday? Well I did it.

The start of year 26 commenced with a 4 a.m. wake-up for 12 pre-work miles. I did 9 over lunch, and got the rest in after work. And then I ate three (large) pieces of the cake our group’s admin so sweetly got for me. (She actually staged a whole little surprise party type deal in one of our conference rooms. I thought I had a meeting about an upcoming workshop and bam! Cake! It was incredibly thoughtful.)

(Also duh I ate way more than that, I just thought I’d point out that I was lucky enough to get cake, even in this turd-hole of a country.)

A couple power outages prevented me from recording exact times, but total run time was about 4 hours and 20 minutes. Right where a conservative 26 mile effort ought to be for me, I think. (Especially since I’m not at the best level of fitness I’ve ever been at.)

I’ve been trying to up my mileage lately, and have done some reading on Lydiard’s “Miles make Champions” business…it’s bait I’m willing to take. I’ve always thought that I stood up to moderate (50ish a week is what this means for me…I know it’s subjective) mileage fairly well, in that I’m (KNOCKS ON WOOD) not injury prone and honestly just like running big (for me) miles. I feel good when I’m over 40. Mentally, physically…it just works for me.

Last week I was going for my first ever 60+ mile week. By Friday I had 41 miles on the books and plans for a 20 miler over the weekend. And then I came down with (what I think was) food poisoning, and well, I’ll spare you the details. But I got through 4 miles of my run before I had to go spend the next two straight days rotating between the bathroom and the fetal position.

This week was a planned cutback week, and it’s been abysmal. My stomach funk isn’t gone, and I just don’t give a damn right now. I can’t stand the the thought of being on the treadmill for hours at a time anymore. I lost a day of running to feeling like hell, and another one to a day where I had to be at the office before 6 a.m. and didn’t get home until about 8:30 p.m.

You “full-time blogger” types? Can suck it.

I’m in this magical place where I just hate pretty much everything. Today our power went out because the infrastructure here is a joke. It didn’t even affect everyone in our complex–just us. Lucky us! This is the second time we’ve been so lucky to get the it’s-just-you power outage. (And that’s to say nothing of the times the power goes out ((DAILY)) that affect everyone).

Yesterday I wanted nothing but peanut butter and jelly toast for breakfast. And then I opened a brand new NOT EXPIRED (hard to find here) jar of jelly and it was covered in mold.

And THEN I bought $80 worth of asparagus and brussels sprouts unknowingly. (As in, no posted prices, and I didn’t get that fun little gem of information until the bastards had my credit card.)

robbery.

HATE. EVERYTHING.

I got in less than 30 miles this week. And I just can’t bring myself to care.

I know I’m being a whiny brat here, and every now and again I get to take kick-ass vacations…but the time in between those? Fricking sucks. My life is one giant repeat of wake up, bus to work at 7 a.m., run at lunch, eat something shitty, home around 6, re-watch some episode of something we downloaded the last time we were in the first world, sleep. And repeat.

I’m lucky. I know I am. Mr. Engineer and I work for what I’m guessing some magazine somewhere has rated one of the best companies there is to work for. And I’m grateful for that.

But living here is just so hard. We’ve been doing it for a year and I’m just not good at it yet. I’m not.

So, to my five readers, how do you pull yourself out of a funk? I’m chest-deep in negativity and can’t shake it. I think I want to–I have at least a year left here, so I have to–but damn I’m struggling right now.

Happy running.