I worked late today. If I haven’t told you yet what my full time job is, I work at Target (Work someplace you LOVE is the tagline they hook you to apply for employment with them). I restock the shelves of the snack and candy aisles. How ironic is that considering I’m ketogenic and don’t eat any of the food on those shelves. Needless to say, the job is very physical, and with the exception of my 30 minute break, I’m on my feet the entire shift. I start at 6am. By the time I got home at nearly 2:30pm, a run was the last thing I wanted to do. The temperature climbed to 81° this afternoon and I considered a treadmill run thinking it would cooler inside than outside. I changed my clothes regardless, and sprawled out in my closet, on my back on the floor, and contemplated whether I should run or not. To be truthful, I have been running too much recently and not taking any serious rest days. I know they are important, and yet time after time, I ignore the facts. I rarely take them.
In the end, I dragged my ass out the door.
I was surprised that I was able to run at all and after the first half mile, decided I could do more.
In my mind, I’d scoped out a new running route, but my feeble brain only calculated it to be 5 miles. I determined most of it would be dirt and gravel, so it might be easier on my weary legs. But I realized, at the 3-mile mark, when the interstate came into view, that it would be way more than just 5 miles, and that I was in way too deep to turn around. I considered a phone call to my husband to rescue me. But, I’m such a hard ass, I decided to plod it out. In the end, I did some walking, and I nearly dragged myself the last half mile to my driveway.
Yeah, it was that bad. I came inside and took an ice cold shower. 8 miles?!? I think I need a day off tomorrow.
I’m not sure why I do these things to myself. I’ve fallen off the proverbial wagon since running the Boston Marathon. That run was so hard on me physically that I’ve since suffered serious hair loss and a deep horizontal ridge across my entire set of finger nails. I’m almost certain is was due to that marathon, or due the toxic alcoholic binge that occured the evening following the marathon. Either way, I haven’t been the same since. My weight has krept back up, and I’m finding it hard to gain control over my emotional eating.
Honestly, I’m surprised that I can run at all. And, I’m surprised I can kick out the numbers that I’m kicking out.
I’m tired, I’m sad, and I’m disgusted with myself. I’m ready to act…and I’m ready to regain some form of direction in my running and my life. I haven’t even gotten into the personal issues I’ve been facing these past few years. Add that on to the equation, and the scale creates a sinkhole as deep as the Grand Canyon.
But, I know that life needs to be lived in the NOW, not in the PAST or in the FUTURE. Much like running, it is mind over matter. I need to convince my brain that it needs to regain CONTROL over its actions and responses. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
“There’s a time when it all comes together—what you long for and what you fear—and as tentative as you may feel, you’re driven to continue. At that point, the need to forge ahead is the only option, and your direction is defined despite yourself.”
― Lorii Myers
It’s time.