2016 Sep 29
Run Streak Day 1399
**Warning, I tried to change some of the “salty” language to less offensive terms. But I ain’t guaranteeing that poop worked.**
Do you want to make the running gods laugh? Then tell them your plans. As I start my slow transition back into training, I have been struggling with the question of if I am still tough enough to handle the process. After being low key for the last year I sort of got used to not having my legs cramp up while I sleep, or the horrible chafing on parts of the body that most people don’t even know exist, or the crushing, fall asleep while driving to work, fatigue that occurs on a daily basis. I’m not sure if I can bounce back from my, sleeping in on the weekends, being able to wear sandals without scaring children, capable of getting off the toilet without assistance, kind of life I’ve been leading. I know I’m going to be fine but I also know that I ain’t promising the future me a bed of roses.
This morning the running gods decided to teach me a small lesson for my lack of faith. They needed to. It is their job to test us, lay challenges at our feet and push us further at times when all we really need is a freaking bathroom during our long run. For me, it was just a small reminder to stop being so soft. Currently, I’m just trying to build up my base cardio, so I’ve been going out, running for about 10 minutes and then hitting the elliptical for another 41 minutes (the length of an episode of the CW show Arrow.) So I got no more than 10 steps into the start of my run this morning when the running heavens opened up and a massive downpour started. I’m talking the kind of rain that came hard, fast and in your face (…wait a minute…).
So there I was, feeling like I am running in place because the wind is so strong and all I can think of “Is it really freaking worth it? If anything, I haven’t really started my training yet, I can call it for the day and go home and back to bed.” I then felt a twinge of shame at having such thoughts, so I threw up the single digit salute to the skies above and told the running gods they could f’ off. That’s when my headphones cut out. Those bastards! So I trudged on, cursing at the rain, calling it some “kitty cat butt poop” and that my backyard sprinkler could do a better job. That’s when the winds shifted and forced me sideways for a few steps, right into an ankle deep puddle. Freaking female dogs. So I proceeded to run a circuitous route, in order to hit every puddle, so I could jump in and cause a big splash. Why? Because, screw them, that’s why.
In the end, I went double the distance I had planned, which only ended up being a couple of miles anyway, but I think I gained much more than just another check in my box for my run streak. I do admit, for the last few minutes of my run, the rains stopped and the winds died down. I’m not sure if it was a sign of respect from the running gods, or if they were bored with me. But at the very least, I know that they still consider me one of theirs. I am still a runner worth testing and taunting. Which feels good. I just hope they don’t try to punish me over the winter for being gone for so long. They can get really ornery during the cold months and it’s no fun for any of us.
-Keep pushing those limits my friends.-