I have not been feeling great lately. Hold on, back that up, actually I have been feeling fantastic lately just not when I try to run hard. Other than that- my hips are not twisted knots of painful gimp limps, my quads are not half dead or mushed like soft cheese, my calves are loose and my shins have not said a peep. My nose is not dripping snot, my head does not hurt, and really I cannot think of one thing to complain about.
Therefor I am drawn to conclude that very soon my body will just pop back into fast action. I wait. I wait. Today? No. Tomorrow? Well we shall just have to see now won’t we? It is hard to keep pounding out the efforts when your feet are just possessed by anvils. Those evil anvils. They sneak in your shoes and have baby anvils. Tis true. This is why “it’s” the Mother Loaded Shoe. It’s called that? Well, I call it that.
Every day I put on my Mother Loaded Shoes and go for a run- a delightful run where body parts don’t hurt and my mind wanders off to random places. Sometimes it comes back and other times my kids accuse me of losing it. That’s when I blame them, but really it’s just off leash somewhere on Mountain Drive.
Today Rusty sent Joy and I to the dump hill to run six half mile repeats. Dump Hill? Yeah, she’s a real looker. She smells like diapers shat with sulfur and she runs steep and long. Yes, yes, half mile long. I said that, but it seems more like a mile halved than a half mile if you catch my stinky drift. Catch it?
I pushed my body into the hill and followed Joy up each repeat. Oxygen left my lungs at the half way point and my legs seemed to turn over slowly like mixing thick batter. Saturday’s effort on Mountain Drive felt this same weird slowness. The flow is normal. The rhythm is there and although the effort is not forced, it just isn’t coming round to my normal ME. I trudged behind Joy for each repeat and watched her little body pump up the hill. She looked smooth and strong, but our numbers were too slow. The effort did not match.
I woke up in the last hill repeat and forced the effort just a touch. The engine had more gas than I thought and I found a new gear. The effort did not increase significantly from the previous sets, but the legs turned over faster and smoother. I was left at the top of this hill with the revelation that part of my dump is mental.
I have always believed that I have never been held back by mental limits- my mind can drive me to the underground if that’s where it would like to visit. Yet, here I am slugging through workout after workout without my drive. The effort is flat. My mind has drifted. Thanks Dump Hill! Trash mixed with treasure, I find a truth. Perhaps I deeply needed a mental break.
I continue to believe it will all roll around again because that’s what happens with things you love- you love them more, you love them less, but you always love them.
I love running. Even up a dump hill sucking up oxygen weighted in rubbish, I love running. Even when I am in the dark waiting for a spark, I love running. Even when it isn’t exciting because I am slower and slower, I love running. And that is exactly why it is going to be awesome….really soon….right?