And so, seventeen days after the Brighton 10K, I manage to get out for another run.
Excuses? None that stand scrutiny. It’s true that I had a change of routine when I took a two-week break from work, but this was a great chance to crank up my running, not abandon it. And yes, I was then out of the country for a week, but what a missed opportunity for mental refreshment with some new running experiences. I saw dozens, if not hundreds, of runners in Spain. I could have joined them on the river path through Bilbao, or on the spectacular coastline near San Sebastian, or through the medieval streets of Vitoria. Did I? No.
Sometimes you just run out of steam. You quite unexpectedly step off some invisible edge; disappear down some unnoticed open manhole. Often it takes a while to notice that it’s happened at all, then a bit longer to accept that you’re stuck there: at the bottom of some hole, peering up through the darkness at your old life, wishing you were back there. Eventually the negative wishing becomes the positive planning, and the climbing starts once again. Slowly at first, then much quicker than you’d feared.
If I sound pretty confident about this process, it’s because I’ve been through it many times. It happens to almost all runners. (Perhaps the wild-eyed obsessives are immune, but I’d rather be anchored to the base of that pit than be one of them.) It’s been discussed just this week again on the forum, and will doubtless reappear, both here and any other place where runners congregate.
For me, there’s only one proven antidote for demotivation, and that’s to find another goal. If it’s tempting enough, the fantasy turns into a plan before long, and the plan soon takes over. This summer I decided to try growing a vine in the front garden. A few straggly shoots appeared after a while but nothing more. Then we hammered a few nails into the wall and before long it was hauling itself up towards the roof. I’ve identified my own target — a marathon at the end of April — and the races and the long runs I do between now and then are the nails I have to reach for and use to pull myself upwards. Much of the pleasure in the journey comes from these staging posts, and these are the places my daydreams have been taking me this week.
My marathon training ‘officially’ begins in less than three weeks time. Christmas week. Between now and then, I have to lose a few more pounds, and I need to get stronger and feel fitter. Then eighteen long and difficult and exasperating weeks, just to humiliate myself in front of the gawping masses. Risking serious injury, cutting myself off, depriving myself of life’s normal pleasures. Is it really worth it?
Yep, it’s really worth it.
