my running.

I had a little "Come to Jesus" meeting with running Friday night. We've been swapping blows like nobody's business the past few years. Running would punch me in the gut, I would backhand it in return, and not to be outdone and always having to have the last word, running would then straight up sucker punch me. I was sitting on my front porch watching my dog run around the yard (read: waiting for him to poo) Friday night around 11p. I love doing this, not watching my dog poo, sitting on my front porch alone at night in the summer. I wouldn't say I had an epiphany, but I was sitting there and I kind of realized I have been making myself crazy and miserable in regard to running. No. I have been making myself crazy. Period.

I felt burnt out and defeated by my inability to accept the runner that I am. Someone prone to injury, who wants to get better and be better, but just can't do it. So I sat there on my porch watching my dog poo with tears rolling down my face in frustration and fatigue from all of it. And decided something needed to change. I give, FINE running...you win. I am done being frustrated and pissed off about it. It just isn't worth it anymore. And yes, I'm fully aware that
a) i am crazy; and
2) i'm totally dramatic
I'm sure in the future I'll still get frustrated and pissed at running, I'll have ups and downs, but I think it will be different now. My running is what it is. And it will be whatever it's meant to be. Like I said. I give. But no, that doesn't mean I'm giving up.

So. To make a longish, drawn out, drama-filled story mostly short. I did the unthinkable (do you see a theme here lately, me doing unthinkable and shameless acts). I got on my laptop, closed my eyes, held my breath and deleted all my running plans. Then I got to work this morning, and again, I closed my eyes, held my breath and deleted my running plans off of my work computer. I then whipped out my printed-off Hal Higdon 18 week training plan for Chicago, walked by a smoker's desk and stole their lighter (yeah, add crime to my crazy) went to our loading dock, lit that mother effing training plan on fire and threw it in the (mostly) empty dumpster and walked away. While walking down the hall I passed some smokers, I smiled and went about my newly liberated way. And two minutes later I heard some commotion and something about a fire in the dumpster. Well thank sweet baby Jesus I had slipped the lighter back on the smoker's desk and no one was the wiser. So a few minutes more and some WTF's later, problem solved. Innocent eye blink...blink blink.

Moving on. So here I am, 17 weeks out from the Chicago Marathon. No training plan, a foot that feels like what can be described as badly bruised from that stupid trail race, and a little hope that I can finish another marathon. Is this a good idea? I have no idea. What I do know is that I've tried training plans, I've run the training runs too fast and too hard, or too slow and too easy. No matter what, I get injured. In my opinion, what do I have to lose? The answer is nothing. So yeah, I'm being totally dramatic about this, but hey, the training approach didn't seem to work out so well for me the last two times around. And don't get me wrong, I'm sure I will in the future use training plans again, I am ridiculously organized and anal. My no-plan is to run based on how I feel. Yeah, that could be disastrous and dangerous. I don't always feel like running, but this just feels right for now. I have four days a week set aside now where I have various people I could run with if I want/need to, that is motivation enough for now. I'll probably just run what they are running as long as my body agrees. Then show up on 10.10.10 hoping I finish.

I realize there is a lot to be said about how I let running rule me, I realize I've been THAT runner. I really do. I'm not going to get into it anymore than that, though. It's just too boring to expect people to read the whole ugly, long, drawn out process of me being THAT runner. To me, it's clear how I've been and I don't like it. My hope in the end is that I don't let running make me crazy, that I stop being THAT runner, like a rabid lemur bouncing around, freaking out, throwing up and pooping all over everything. I just can't do it anymore. I realize this might be a new brand of crazy, actually it is. I'm okay with that. I'll keep you all posted on how this new approach goes, and hopefully leave the crazy... well THAT specific crazy behind. That's it.

And the whole fire-at-work thing: I made that part up. The rest is straight up truth.