Last night after getting the kids into bed, the last bits of laundry put away and the toys in the living room picked up I laced up my running shoes and went to the gym for my long run for the week. Technically this was to be my long run for last week, but with a 5k race on Saturday morning I knew I was not going to be physically ready for 9 miles the very next morning. I came up with the plan weeks ago to shift my runs for the week following this past weekends 5k race by a day to make room for my long run from the week prior.
I did forget that the week after my 5k was spring break and Madeline would be home.
I did not know that while getting myself and the family ready to head downtown for my 5k I would slip on the stairs while holding Delaney and bruise large portions of my body. Luckily Delaney is fine and I took the brunt of the fall.
I obviously did not anticipate Delaney waking up sick around 11:00 pm on Sunday night and then continuing in a cycle of puke and diarrhea followed by spurts of seeming totally fine for the next 36 hours.
So, Monday evening rolled around and I was exhausted. Caring for a pukey baby and her hyped-up “I’m on Spring Break!!!” sister after a night of caring for a pukey baby had taken its toll. Dinner still needed to be made, the kids needed to be read to and bathed and put to bed. Really, all I wanted to do was break down into that overly emotional cry that sometimes bubbles up when I’m overly-tired and worked-up. Then order a pizza and drink a glass of wine.
This is why I was at the gym at 9:00pm on a Monday night. Usually you will find me reading and drinking a cup or tea or working on my Italian course or writing. It is accurate to say I was not thrilled to be there, but even though I knew I was attempting my longest run yet with less fuel in the tank then was needed this run needed to happen. A training plan is a schedule and my plan leads me right up to my first half-marathon in early May. I just told myself I needed to buck up, push myself and run off this grumpy, tired fog hanging over my head.
You guys. I wish this was a “and I totally showed that run who is boss” post. But it isn’t. I didn’t run 9 miles last night. I tried. I really tried. In the end I only got to 6 miles. Which, yes I know, considering everything 6 miles is still really great, but 6 wasn’t the goal.
I know that training programs aren’t always week after week of success. Gold stars after every workout. fortunately, and unfortunately, this is my first fail. My first run left unfinished, and honestly it hurts. I just wish I could have put last night’s run in the win column. There is no “A for effort here.”
I just have to remember one thing. Even a bad run is better than no run and quite frankly barring injury, there is no such thing as a bad run.
What do you do to psych yourself back up after you feel like you’ve fallen short?