Running for fun, yes fun dammit!

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?….

This poem by Langston Hughes kept repeating itself in my head.

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

I was crying. I was running. I was running and crying as my feet heavily landed with dull thuds along the Arroyo Seco’s dry river bed (it’s not a river bed, it’s more like a drainage system) as I huffed and puffed my way towards Montecito Heights.

It was dawning on me, I SUCKED as a runner.

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

I had a training schedule all planned. I had a coach who would meet with me for strength training 2x a week. I just never FOLLOWED the plan. I was always seduced by someone saying, “I don’t want to run 11 miles, let’s just run 5,” or “Let’s not run, let’s just drink warm beverages and read good books,” “Why do you want to run 18 miles, that wastes the entire day,” etc etc. I SUCKED. SUCKED SUCKED SUCKED.

And now here I ran, realization hanging on my shoulders that I’m far too undertrained to reach my goal of running my first 50 mile race by my birthday. It was if I broke my own heart. I had set a goal for myself, and I didn’t follow thru. No one to blame but myself.

Or does it explode?

i'm Homer, just with more hair. And tits. Sorta.

There are so many reasons why one doesn’t reach a goal, especially a personal one. I didn’t create a support system, I didn’t punish/reward myself enough, I didn’t create a routine that was doable, I started late, I didn’t share the goal enough with other people to hold me accountable, I relied on people who didn’t share the same goal, etc etc. But all of that means nothing when I can’t get myself out for a morning run.

I wasn’t enjoying this run one bit. I didn’t enjoy the horses whose stalls abut the river bed. I didn’t laugh at the roosters cockadoodling in my direct path, their feathers scattering as my feet nearly kicked the living dusters out of the way. I was angry at myself and the circumstances I created for myself.

In 6 days I have to run a 32 mile race -a race I did with ease 2 years ago- but now so severely undertrained that I doubted myself. DOUBT! It’s the worse thing to enter any athlete’s mind. No matter how much everyone else doubts you, only YOU could prove them wrong… and at this moment, I felt nothing but the doubt lying like a pat of melting butter on my toasted soul.

Or does it explode?

I was so upset at myself, the tears just started falling. I hated myself. I hated everything about me, despite the fact that my body was still willing itself thru pain to continue the run I was on. I hated the fact that the sun was shining but not hot.
Damn everything! The world is so freaking perfect! Yay for the world! I’m merely the crap that happens to be waddling down the river bed.

I’ve never been this uncertain about running. Running was fun. Glorious. Wonderful. Who put all this expectation on me? I did. I hated myself even more.

Or does it explode?

I stopped at a dog park. It was 10 am and the posh owners of Pasadena pooches were out, Montecito mommies with their mastiffs, proud pet owners of pit bulls. I watched these 2 particular black and white pit bull/retriever mixes RUN. As if the earth was a bunch of clouds and gravity was merely something to utilize in order to jump and grab that ball and return it to owner. Over and over.

I wanted to feel that light again. To run without worry, without any other expectation than to try to get that ball. And if not, that was okay cuz running after it was so darn fun.

Or does it explode?

I’m going to get on that plane and get myself to that starting line for that 32 miler. And if I don’t make it to the finish line, that’ll be okay. I just want to remember to run after the ball.

I just want the ball.