Monday, February 24, 2014

ShittyBlogger III: This Run Is More Important Than Everything

This morning I toed the line.  Heart beating, rhythmic, like it was part of a world famous band that had been making music together for centuries.  The cool breeze fluttered past my ponytail like butterflies on a spring morning.  I took a deep breath and gazed at the land around me, in the city I have grown to call my own.  Amidst all the calm, I took a moment to admit to myself the feeling that was haunting me deep in my loins: This would be the most important run of the world.

This run would  change my life.  It would change your life.  It would change the life of the guy who bagged my groceries yesterday.

Because there it was, laid out before me like a labyrinth of faith and perseverance, designed by Gareth to save a baby boy named Toby.  I stared right into the face of my greatest destiny.  Would I, or would I not, be able to say, at the end of the day, that I completed my training run of 12 miles at a 7:30 pace?

This question weighed heavy on my shoulders.  I continued to gaze at the birds, smell the morning dew dancing on the grass leaves, and listen to my soft nervous breath, anticipating the life-changing run before me.

And like a Pavlov's dog that heard his bell ring for dinner, my feet instinctually began to stride forward and beat upon the pavement as if they were playing patty cake with a long lost friend from second grade.  One step in front of the other.  I let my arms stride back and forth, like two eager pendulums, and I watched the scenery stream by me.  I sensed all the gluttonous neighbors sitting down in their kitchen for a morning cinnamon roll.  I kept gliding on.

Mile one beeped on the dark creature that sits so regularly on my wrist.  7:28.

Ok, deep breath, stay calm.  You are right on pace.  You can do this.  YOU. CAN. DO. THIS.  You. GOT. this.  You. motherfucking. cocksucking. slut. you. CAN. do it.

And it will change the world.

The next five miles were a blur of athletic nirvana and serendipitous fate.  Without even nary a sweat drop, I nailed my goal pace for this life altering run.  7:30; 7:24; 7:27; 7:29; 7:22.

I was on cloud 9.  All my dozens and dozens of minutes of hard work were paying off and rewarding me like the King of the castle.  My effortless pace continued on like a dream, a dream that I floated through, fairy of the running land.

I began to envision how the world would really change when this perfect run was completed.  I saw that my devil children would shed their little brat skin, and would morph into sweet perfect angels, making my blog life so much easier for not having to force them to smile at the camera all day long.  I had a vision of my husband, telling me how crazy hot and perfect I was for nailing the most important run.  And then he would get a $30,000 bonus at work, and let me spend it how I wanted.

And then, just like that, without any warning, the dream began to unravel.  My reality slipped beneath my feet like quicksand, and I was drowning fast, my arm sprung up as a last desperate attempt for someone to save me from most certain death.  7:34.

Just a few miles to go, but there was no returning from this hell.  I spiraled down into a tunnel of pure pain and terror.  I grimaced with each and every step as if I was stepping on hot coal and shards of glass.  7:37; 7:38.

Oh, the horror.  I had bravely faced this test, unsure if I would be able to pass, and here I was, being told by the universe that no, today is not your day.  You will not pass that test today.  There may be many other days, but this is not your day.

12:38; 18:11. I dug deep for all the courage I had, and I courageously listened to my body.  My body was telling me to walk.  I was not going to hit my 7:30 average pace goal, and so I knew it was time to throw in the towel.  7:30 or nothing at all.  I listened to this inner voice and walked the whole way home, occasionally sprinkling the air with a chorus of curse words.

But even though I am never one to use cliches, the old saying is true.  When you fall, you have to get back up.  You have a choice to make when you are laying there on the ground, full of shame, fallen and a failure.  You can choose to lay there and die, or you can choose to get back up. You can choose to get back on that horse.

And I will.  Yes, I will.  My run, tomorrow, will be the most important run in the world.

***

Inspired by the proclivity in all of us to exaggerate the importance of the details of our adored hobby.

28 comments:

  1. If you didn't reach your goal today, you will tomorrow!

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  2. Now that is quality blogging right there-hilarious.

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  3. I was really hoping for a picture of you sprawled out on the pavement at the end of your run. :(

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  4. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger! Fight the good fight!! You can do it!!!

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  5. Maybe if you had an Apera bag you'd have held on for those last few 7:30s.

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  6. maybe some compression socks would help, you motherfucking cocksucking slut.

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  7. Maybe if you wore an Iron Man Kona watch, your miles would have been more consistent. For shame.

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  8. "my feet instinctually began to stride forward and beat upon the pavement as if they were playing patty cake with a long lost friend from second grade."

    Bless you.

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  9. ugh. I hate it when that happens! You got it next time though. Great read!

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  10. Same category: I don't get out of bed for a half marathon with no finisher medal.

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  11. You are a genius!! A motherfucking genius!

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  12. Aw man, that's the worst...when the run falls apart in the middle. At least when it sucks at hte beginning, there's the opportunity to call it and just try again later.

    Sorry about the run...but it was still a good workout!

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  13. Vapid, forgettable comment to say I can totally relate to this post and just want to be supportive.

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  14. Do people really think this is serious? That right there is almost as funny! Ha!

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    1. This was a seriously bad important run!

      I actually can't tell either. I give them the benefit of the doubt that they're playing the part of shittybloggers fangirls

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    2. Oh the very important fan girls, equally as baffling!

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  15. I am a shittyblogger fangirl!! Haha that was great

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  16. If I ever write a post like this, find me and take all my running shoes away and do not let me run ever again.

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    1. Unless it is written in satire...in which case, high five

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  17. So I'm not the only one? Running is all about getting back up. If you can't do that, then you're not a runner. Thanks for posting this, it is nice to have company right now.

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  18. Unfortunately I can't spend my days at my "job" reading blogs all day, so it took a week to finally read this. As expected, I lost my shit. Thank you.

    Off to my 1 time a month swim practice so I can triumphantly cross the finish line of another ironman.

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  19. Dude. I seriously think that people seriously think you are serious. Wow...I just...wow.

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