Tis the season… for hibernation.
Tis the season, right? For getting snowed in, secret Santa gifts, and cuddling on the couch with hot chocolate. For cozy sweaters, warm boots and fuzzy scarves.
It’s also the season for late sunrises and early sunsets, negative wind chills, and hidden icy patches. A season where it’s more tempting to hit snooze than to head out for a morning run (which requires SO many more layers than a tank top and shorts). It’s more tempting to curl up on the couch with a bowl of piping hot mac ‘n cheese (my absolute weakness) than it is to change into your bathing suit and head to the pool.
I hate to get all grinchy on you- but we all know I’m much more of a summer girl than I am a fan of winter. I actually deeply despise this time of year (This is about the time I wonder why I didn’t follow my brother to sunny California). Winter makes me want to curl up in a ball, cover my eyes, and hibernate until it’s all over.
The last two winters I’ve been pretty lucky in that I’ve been pretty motivated. Two years ago I was hunting down a number on the scale, determined to win it over. Last year I was riding off the high of my first half marathon and feeling invincible. And this year… it’s just life. It’s what I do. The thrill and excitement and novelty have worn off. Not resetting that alarm is getting harder. I find myself making excuses more easily, giving myself more free passes. And that’s just not acceptable.
I don’t know why I’ve gotten so lackadaisical, considering what’s looming in the not so distant future. I thought this break would have me rearing to go, on fresh legs, yipping to get started. But instead I’m sluggish, achy, struggling. Maybe it’s because every day that passes is another day closer to the unknown, to a lot of really hard work and the first of many, many cold miles. Maybe this is my way of dealing with my nerves – burrow in, cover your eyes, and pretend it’s not happening. Except that it is – and deep down inside I know I don’t want to ruin one second of it.
I almost want to call this a wake up call, but I feel like that’s a harsh term to use. I’ll refer to it as a gentle reminder. A reminder that it’s not always going to be sunshine and happiness. That every run isn’t spectacular. That in order to see progress I need to fuel my body properly. That some days it’s harder to get out the door than others. That rewarding things don’t come easily. It’s not happily-ever-after, it’s happily as I want to work for it. It’s time to get my ass in gear and pull myself together so that when I hit the pavement on Day One I feel strong, confident, and ready to do this. In the meantime I’ll be searching the Black Friday ads for some sassy new winter gear to motivate me to get my ass out the door.