The Big Why?

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that there are days you just plain out lack inspiration.  Everything feels flat, so so, and just not worth the effort.  Today was just one of those blah Mondays!  In contrast, Saturday had seen fresh snow, the first of the year, and I had had a ton of fun sliding in the fluffy stuff, zig zagging down Bright's Lane listening to the Beatles scream Helter Skelter - it was a recovery run anyway, so the 9 minute pace didn't hurt the old ego too much.  But the aching calves the next day made me realize running in trails in snow is akin to trying to race through sand dunes, it takes its toll on your legs, especially when you are 45.  The next day, Sunday is normally my favorite run of the week, but suddenly Valley Green was out of action as it would be an ice rink, and I had to take to the roads.  I invited myself over to bother Q-Less in her neighborhood.  Trying to avoid the ice on the now reduced surface of the roads made things a little slower, as I am a big chicken about falling over, convinced I will need that hip replacement 30 years early if I go down hard.   I found myself working double time to keep the pace.  Unfortunately to make things worse Cheri had definitely had her wheaties, as she took off at a much faster pace than we were scheduled to run, taking no prisoners.  Despite saying reassuring things about safety beforehand in her texts, Q-Less has a rather cavalier attitude towards other road users and prefers to frequent the center of the road like the Titan she is, accompanying this positioning with a particularly aggressive range of  hand gestures and choice words to any motorists who take issue with her presence.  So whilst our two tempo sections of the run were faster than they needed be, the experience was somewhat on the demoralizing side - especially when she used her ESP to rub it in and shouted smugly back to me trailing in her wake 'did you have two glasses of wine last night or something...' which of course I had, it had been Saturday night after all.

So Monday morning rolled around and the white stuff was still laying right where it had sat since the weekend, and now freezing rain was in the mix.  I rebelled for the first time in five weeks, thumbed a nose at the warm running outfit laid out in the bathroom ready for the next day, and pulled on my long neglected gym clothes and headed for Bodyworks instead.  I instead had fun hurting other parts of my body, rather than just my legs, and it felt good to have music blaring out.  It got me thinking 'why the heck was I running Boston again anyway', and immediately the large finish poster at the end of the race sprang to mind.  It had been a very dramatic 100 ft image of a woman running and it just said 'Run Boston Better'.  I realized that dropping time in this race was not necessarily motivating me; true, we did have a pace in mind, we did want to drop ten minutes of our last attempt.  But thinking about it, what was really going to get me out the door next time, was the fact that the for the last two miles of the race I had not had fun.  Q-less had been the only one feeling fine in that race.  Nonetheless suffered the terrible quad cramps early on, only to be revived by a 'friendly' stranger who massaged it back into existence so she could hobble on and finish like the trooper she is, Merciless had ended her race in the medical tent, her body basically shutting down at mile 18, leaving her struggling mentally and physically for 8 or more miles.  Q-Less and I had carried on and felt fine until mile 24, where I started to experience a loud roaring in my ears that didn't subside until I crossed the finish line.  To start with I of course hoped it might be noise from the crowd which engulfs every inch of that the race, but then through my delirium, I realized it was more akin to that feeling you have just before you faint.  Q-Less had played mother hen at that point and took my water bottle to lighten my load, and we slowed the pace a bit, but you can see in all of the pictures one of us waving like a happy crazy girl, and the other one, me of course, appears to be expressionless.  I have a fixed glazed eye on the finish line - I had locked step with Q-Less and was running like an automaton - any other mental or physical effort would not have been possible at that stage.  She was merrily pointing out the cheering family and kids spectating and I was barely acknowledging it.  So having processed my lack of excitement today, and figured out why on earth I am spending the next 16 weeks doing this, I am going to make the most of this new resolve.  Tomorrow, I pledge to pick back up the running clothes languishing next to the shower, and hit the track for interval Tuesday; simply because I want to Run Boston Better.  No matter how exhausting the 800-600-600 interval sets are, I am going to finish each one as if it were the last few moments of Boston, and this time the only roaring will be my own!