Kicked in the jimmy

In the big picture, I have bigger fish to fry from a blogging standpoint. I still haven't blogged about my amazing experience at the Giant Race in September (it's in the editing phase right now) and I haven't published a blog about my 450 consecutive days running (a pretty big deal in my world). I also earned my first medal in a race that wasn't a participation medal, that deserves a little chat too.

Today though, I think I'm just really frustrated with running.

I work really hard at it. I schedule much of my life around it. I've sacrificed aspects of my social life because of it. I've put my body through the ringer because of it. I've spent a good chunk of money on it.

This isn't a 'poor Gabriel' post, I don't feel sorry for myself. Everyone makes choices, I choose to be a runner. Before I ran, I wasn't as happy. I don't like working out in a gym, forget that. I am much better off because of my decision to start running.

Running has been hard for the last couple of months. I've experienced some mystery fatigue, some injuries, the flu, and have really hurt my marathon training. For the last two or three weeks, I've had a low grade headache off and on, as well as felt dehydrated. This despite removing caffeine and alcohol as a test for the last week (until this weekend). My paces are way off. Running my normal times take so much effort, let alone trying to drive my times down. In a previous life, I would have just said forget it.

I'm not in good shape right now, and it's really frustrating. I need to be in the best shape of my life. This is something I knew was coming, but only thought of it in the back of my mind. I was much more concerned with the plateau of proficiency or skill than I was with fighting through a tough training period.

I don't blame the run streak, though some I know would disagree. I stopped running when I was tired of managing multiple injuries and ailments, and realized I couldn't focus on my marathon training. Yep. I haven't posted about it yet, but I've told a number of people. I stopped running every day on February 22nd, at 450 days total. I started on Thanksgiving 2011.

I think I've reached the point of a blog post because I don't know how else to vent. I blab to some people in my run group, and they're gracious enough to listen. Truthfully, that's not enough credit.

They listen, the empathize, they suggest solutions. Mostly, they listen.

Forget being in shape. Forget losing the weight. Forget the great feeling that running gives you. The single best aspect of running is the community. The people I run with, near or far, local or virtual, are incredibly positive, encouraging, and supportive.

About yesterday.....I hate not running, particularly when I have a plan. Yesterday I planned on running 8 miles, 8 hard trail miles. 2 miles in, I wasn't having fun, but I was getting my work in. I came across a father, mother and their small child on a smaller portion of the trail, coming the opposite way, and as a courtesy, they shifted to their right and I shifted to my right.

In the process, I neglected to pick up my left foot all the way, and caught it on a rock. Maybe it was a tree root, or just a bump in the dirt. At any rate, I dove face first on the edge of the trail. Chewed up a bit of my left hand, and definitely did some superficial damage to my knee. It was a reasonably impressive scrape, causing some 'drippage' by the time I was done. It did hurt a bit, but not terribly (now it's a bit of a gooey mess).

I'm not unusual in the fact that I got up, dusted myself off, assured the family that I was ok, and continued walking in the direction of the trail I was on, gauging how I was going to continue. The thing about a scrape, is that it's not really an injury unless you're losing a lot of blood. I didn't sprain anything, nothing broke, so I gauged if the bruising was too much to go on, and it seemed ok. I really didn't have much choice anyway. I was on mile 2 of a 4 mile trail. I had to get back somehow.


Now, I planned on running 8 miles, looping this trail twice.

As I started running again, I was analyzing how I felt. I knew I would have an adrenaline rush from the fall, and I used it to get up what I consider the toughest part of the trail, the first mile of the last 1.5 miles. I started feeling really good, and was pretty positive I could make my second loop as planned.

This 4 mile run finishes downhill, which is great, but I am not a great downhill runner, and I was wearing a pair of socks that aren't really good when you have a bit of extra room in your shoes (a poor choice that I thought might affect the run, but I did it anyway). Suddenly I felt like I had a rock or some dirt in my shoe. I'll tell you, when you have this feeling, it's either a rock, or you're starting to get a blister.

Blisters have been very few and far between for me in my running, so I've been lucky.

I reached the split where I make the choice to either continue and loop the second time, or head back to the car, ending the run. I sat down, pulled my sock off, and unfortunately didn't find any dirt or a rock, so I figured it was the beginning of a blister. I cleaned out the sock the best I could, put it back on, and tried to run back up the hill as I had planned, reversing course on the trail for the second 4 miles. I realized quickly that I had to stop running.

I headed back to the car, pretty dejected. I absolutely hate not finishing a planned run. In the end, one of the lessons my friends in the run group have taught me, is that it's better to not finish one run, than hurt yourself and prevent running for multiple days until your injury has healed. So the decision was made.

Why did I digress to this story for so long? Well, it's really a microcosm of my experiences running for the last few months. I have good intentions, I go out and get the work going, then something little happens and it's done. No can do. Many times, it's my own poor choices that cause the problem.

I'm frustrated with running.

I know I love running though. You know why? There are VERY few things I will keep doing even when they piss me off, frustrate me, hurt me, and dispirit me.

When I was younger, getting out my practice pad and drumming away was this release for me. No matter how much I sucked at it, I enjoyed it. I just kept doing it. I was never very proficient, but I loved it so it didn't matter. Ok, it mattered some. The thing was, I knew there would always be someone who was better, so I just tried to make myself better. I enjoyed it.

Basketball was the same way for me, for a long time. Luckily, I was blessed with a 6'1" frame and some hops, so I enjoyed some advantages in that department. I could play till the cows came home, and often times I did. No real cows though, just darkness and the eventuality that my legs would stop working after so many hours playing.

Running is that for me now.

I derive a great amount of satisfaction from running. Without being the best. Without winning races. Without it being awesome all the time.

I've hit a pretty big bump in the road. It's hard. I'm about 56 days from attempting the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. Run 26.2 miles. All at once.

In the end, there are very few things in life that are all rosy and sweet all the time. In my life, more appropriately: not all things are amazing IPA's and other great craft beers, sometimes you have to drink the industrial lagers. You have to just find your way back to what you love, and enjoy it.

I'm looking for that right now. I feel like I've been kicked in the nuts repeatedly by running in recent months, but as my friend Derrick reminded me yesterday "it's how you pick yourself off the mat that really matters". Thanks buddy, I'm looking forward to bouncing back real soon.