Last week was mentally tough and I am not sure why. My speed work was not so great; actually, there wasn't a victory in it at all. I missed my tempo run. And wasn't happy with that. Hills had to be moved up a day so that I could get in my long run on Friday instead of the weekend as it was Nate's 13th birthday and we had a million things planned. So that was all caddy-whomped too.
It was just a bad week. I broke down in a couple of texts to Training Planner and Boss Lady. I didn't let them hear me cry, but I was crying in my texts (and now they know I was crying...sigh). So, ask me why I was crying... Or don't. But I am gonna tell you. Mentally drained. Mentally unsure about myself. Feeling like a failure. A let down if you will. I just felt like my entire world and everyone around me was crashing in. I couldn't keep anyone happy with anything I said or did and I surely couldn't keep myself happy.
I reflected back on my training last year and how happy and excited I was to be out there. The drive and push around me. And lately, it's just felt like negativity. Maybe mine own. Maybe that of people around me. I can't pinpoint it. And really at this point, it doesn't matter. What does matter, is that I feel like I am coming out of it.
As I celebrated Nate's 13th birthday this weekend, it occurred to me that maybe I was my own worst enemy. Here I was celebrating my one and only child's 13th birthday and celebrating myself too. Ask me 13 years ago to run and I probably would have said "to the ice cream truck?" Ask me to run today and I will say "how far? 5 miles? more?"
The 10 miles on Friday was good. Maybe it wasn't quite 10, but it was close. And honestly, it just felt good to be out there with the drive and push I needed. I needed to overcome whatever it was lagging me all week. I needed a small victory, in a large way. So, on this particular long run, I focused on me. I pushed the negativity aside. I forgot that I almost had a teenager. I let my body feel the run. I allowed my head go wherever it wanted to go. And it worked. I walked when I had to walk (very little I might add). I talked when I needed to talk (I think this was the quietest run Kelly and I have ever been on). I didn't focus on the pace on my watch, or from the Nike app (it was slow though). And when it came right down to it, when my body said "enough" I let it say enough. But not because I was weak, or tired, or couldn't breathe; but because I allowed myself to enjoy the run. I pushed myself when I needed pushed, and I let it go.
This training is nothing like last summer's training. And maybe that is what I need to remember. This is a new year. A new run. Sure, it's Akron again and I have a lot to prove. I want a PR. But in all honesty, I'm not looking for a 30 minute PR. Shaving 3 minutes off last years' time would be a PR. Don't get me wrong, I'm not settling by any means. I will train and I will run like I am supposed to. But I have to take pride in the small victories or having a good long run, or a 400 that meets the 2:15, or tackling the 5 hills by the end of September, or meeting a 3 mile tempo at the pace I should be at. I need to celebrate the small victories and make them a big victory for myself.
That would be a small victory.
It is the small victories.
Run. Strong.
-t-
P.S. This post is dedicated to my Dad and Deb. After a talk with my dad last night, I realized that it is the small victories that count the most. For Deb, it's coming back to a 10-mile race after 2 years of injury and placing first in her division. For dad, it's a 9:53/pace for a 5k because he runs 5 miles at least 4x a week and 3 miles is nothing on race day for him. He gently reminded me that I have small victories in everything I do...from raising my son to running a 4th 1/2 marathon...I need to remember that I have come a long way and I have so much farther to go, but to enjoy the small victories, because it's the small victories that get you to the bigger victory.
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