Fears, doubts, and the little voice inside.
If you came here looking for an inspirational and motivational post I regret to inform you that you will not find that here today. Instead you’ll find some whining, some complaining…and a little bitching.
I ran 5K #8 this weekend. Since the day in January where I pulled a 27:50 out of the sky (A big deal for a girl who was running 12 minute miles over the summer!) I’ve been dying to PR, and I get close- but not close enough. I had decided that enough was enough- this was going to be the day.
But it turns out, this would not be the day- In any way, shape, or form. I ended up being slower than I’ve been all year. An absolute disappointment to myself. I started out pretty strong, but by Mile 2 I wasn’t feeling it and then once it came time to tackle the hill- forget it. I completely lost steam and …WALKED. Yes, you read that right. Seriously Kathleen? I went from bad ass to the absolute biggest half ass in a split second. And as much as my amazing trainer tried to get me back to where I needed to be, in my head I was already over it. That’s what gets me the most- the fact that I just let myself give up. For the first time in a LONG time, in that instant I HATED running. I wanted to throw my Brooks across the street (or maybe at my trainer), have my fiancee pick me up, and call it a day. What came over me? Who was this girl? Did she eat the Rockstar for breakfast? I fought back tears as I crossed the finish line- so incredibly angry with what I had just done.
There’s so many things that I could sit here and blame it on. I can blame it on the fact that I hadn’t run much due to a stupid rolled ankle earlier in the week. That my dad was there to watch me for the first time. Blame it on the fact that I was sweating in my long sleeve shirt before I even took off. That I only ate half my english muffin that morning. I hadn’t had enough water the day before. My playlist wasn’t playing the right songs. I could go on and on.
Bad runs happen, I get that. But I was so angry purely for the fact that I just simply gave in to the voice inside who told me “You want to stop running? Go ahead!” I knew how mad I was going to be at myself later- but it didn’t matter. This coming from the girl who is planning on running a 5 mile race in June? Is signed up for a triathlon in 3 months? Who wants to run a half marathon next year? And you’re telling me she can’t even make it through a 5K?
It told me I’d never change my life style. I did.
It told me I’d never be able to lose the weight. I did.
It told me I’d never run a 5K. I did.
It told me I’d never become a runner. I am.
This triathlon is scaring the pants off me. I know I say this constantly but I’m in a daily battle between being so incredibly excited- and in a split second wondering who the hell I think I am signing up for something like this. Is this normal– or am I just a crazy lady over here? Cus I’m starting to feel pretty nuts.
If only my wave could just include myself and my two friends. If only the swimming just meant laps in a nice, calm (chlorinated) pool. If only the biking was a casual ride through the streets of my neighborhood. Then I would be PUMPED for this triathlon, I’d do it tomorrow if I could. I guess it’s the fear of the unknown that’s freaking me out. In my head I’ve created this scenario where I drown in the water as Miss Trunchbull ferociously swims past me. Or I ride my bike straight into a ditch. Or my legs give out before I make it past the first mile marker. I’ve created all sorts of scenarios in my head and sometimes I just want it all to be over so that it’s not the unknown anymore. And I sure wish those voices would take a break every now and then.
Deep breaths Kathleen, deep breaths.