That's where I've been for the past two weeks. In a pit of "I hate running, I want nothing to do with it again, I'm ready to get fat and be happy, leave me alone."
Okay, that's not entirely true. I still wanted to talk about running and hear how everyone was doing with it. But I have been in a seemingly bottomless burnout pit. I think it was the same thing that happened in the coldest part of this winter. The part where I realized I had to force myself to stop for a while, when I was riddled with guilt and self-loathing for nearly a month because I didn't want to even think about running again. The weather made it so challenging then, and I think that's what helped the downfall this time. That plus the knee and back pain that had been increasing slowly since the friggin' Pig.
So I rested. I willingly stopped running for a while. I took care of my back and knees (rather, my wonderful chiropractor, Dr. Allen Homan of Homan Chiropractic took care of my back and therefore my knees), I had fun with friends, I went tubing and attempted water skiing, I soaked up some sun at the pool, and I ate very poorly. It was all for the sake of recovering, of course.
Turns out it worked. I needed it. My body was tired and things were giving up on me. And, as it turns out, it happens to lots of runners. In this article from Runner's World -- Falling in Love Again -- the author talks about how maintaining a running relationship requires the same care as real relationships: communication, respect, spontaneity, romance, quality time, flexibility and appreciation. Me and running, you see, we got a little too intense and needed a break. I was abusing a lot of these things and, as a result, got big fat burnt out. The author says, "The initial thrill of the beginning runner inevitably fades. You can't stay gaga forever. The good news is that beneath the infatuation is something even better, more mature, and ultimately more rewarding-a love that will sustain you for years to come."
Holler! So true! Here's another one that sings the praises of taking a break when you need it:
Take a Break for Peak Performance.
That magazine is so helpful.
So why, after reading these articles and even going through this burnout once before, was it such a shock to me and so difficult to come to terms with when it happened again? Why couldn't I just let it be and take a vacay?
I'm not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with the fear of not wanting to and/or being able to start again. I felt so completely over running that I didn't want to do it again and was petrified that I never would.
But I did.
I had been gently telling myself that I was going to start running again yesterday. That didn't happen. Shocker. Then I saw a lump of fat that had diminished over the last year of running beginning to make its home again on a part of my body that I was growing particularly proud of. But what about the scale? Oh, you know, I'm at a record low, one pound lower than my previous low. So, a returning lump of fat and a decreased number on the scale? EEEEEK! I'm losing muscle at an alarming rate!
So essentially, my gentle-nudging return-to-running plan turned into an "OHMIGOD I HAVE TO START NOW OR THE FAT WILL CONTINUE TO MULTIPLY" plan.
The panic plan worked better.
I ran this morning. I got up at 7 a.m., ate a half piece of toast, drank some green tea and a bunch of water, and got to Armleder at 8:30 a.m.I was sweating sitting in my car. A half hour after I started, my Weather Channel app said it was 83 degrees with 75% humidity and a dew point of 74.
Gross.
Whatever, it didn't matter. I was there to sweat. And I had just downloaded a new album on my way to the park as a sort of reward and I was ready to rock out to some new running music (Foster the People ... super fun). I set my timer for 30 minutes, got a pebble out of my shoe, turned up the tunes, and set off.
To continue on the overly dramatic theme I started with the title of this post, m first few running steps were euphoric.
I was overjoyed.
I felt weightless.
I was practically bounding.
I kid you not, I almost cried. (And I can't even blame hormones.)
What the heck? How? Why? Can resting really have this kind of effect? Chyeah it can!
Don't get me wrong, it was still running and it was still hard. I was still drenched in sweat and I still got tired. But nothing hurt. My breathing was good (better than I expected on such a humid morning). My muscles were ready to rock and they carried me an entire mile before I took my first walk break.
To add to the magic of the moment, two bucks (complete with a small set of--er--horns?) went bounding across my path and through the fields at Armleder during the first 5 minutes of the run. Cue the symphony, please.
Not surprisingly, considering it had been two weeks since I last ran, my body started to protest at 20 minutes and at 25, I called it a run. I took a little walk to the river to take in the sights and sounds, and to snap some pictures, but I was done. Return to running -- success.
So I'm ready to start running again. And I'm actually kind of looking forward to being in the heat. I keep thinking about some of the hottest running days last year at TQL. (Here's a post about TQL with PICTURES!) Yeah, it was hot and all, but I could do it. Sometimes sweating feels good. Sometimes.
Anyway, I leave you with this, quite possibly my favorite running quote by some dude (I have no idea who he is) and some pictures from today (sorry they're dark ... iPhone + morning light + iamnotaphotographer).
"Run because you love it. If you don't, learn to love it. Running will bring things into your life that you could never imagine."
- Scott Jurek
