The one where I already know the answer to everything.

Posted: 11/12/2012 in Uncategorized

Peeps, sometimes running sucks. Plain & simple.

And it’s not about a bad run or a series of bad runs.

It’s about me already knowing how to fix all the stuff that makes me think that, but then I have to fix all the stuff.

I’m being obscure – which seems to be my word of the day today.

So Saturday, I’ve got 6 miles on the schedule. While it’s about 15-20 degrees too warm out for a perfect run day – it is my perfect version of an enjoyable run day. It is a blue-sky, perfect breeze, run-clothes-I-like-on, kinda day. A sleeveless-70-degrees. IN NOVEMBER. Not too many of these kinda days left in 2012 ’round here – and it’s very possible that this is the LAST ONE.

And I’m lucky enough to have a 6-mile run on my schedule. I’m also lucky enough that I feel good about that run. I woke up musing to myself that I was at the point that I could just put 6 miles on a schedule, or even go run it on a whim, and my body doesn’t stress all that much about it. Hey Me – I can just up and run 6 miles ’cause I want to – high-five myself! Whee!

And off I go! With the intention of mating my 3-mile hill route with my favorite 5.5 miler & producing a 6-6.5 mile pretty route for a perfect weather day. A route which crosses right by my favorite 2-mile checkpoint – a drinking fountain right next to a pretty sculpture.  I conquer two hills from ghosts of trouble-spots past and swing down to the checkpoint.

Where the drinking fountain is turned off. This is important information. I can run 3-4 miles without a water stop, but not 6-6.5. Lack of water might as well be kryptonite. If this fountain is off, then so is the one at the turnaround. No water on this route at all.

And my first reaction is to shake my fist at clouds about the water.

But I knew I was playing roulette. I HATE hate hate hate (*insert foot stamping sound here*) to carry my own water when I run. One of the benefits of my running group is that they put up water stops for us on the longer runs & route us near drinking fountains. I know, at some point late in the season, that drinking fountain getting turned off is going to bite me in the butt and I’m going to have to shorten up a run. Today is that day. The line of demarcation between carefree running and feeling like a pack mule has been drawn, and crossed.  On a gorgeous day that feels more like May than November. Ugh. Something karmic has taken a dump in my running shoes.

It’s a mile back to the house. When I get back to the house I will be done. I have a lot of things on the agenda that don’t involve outside and sunshine. This was my chance  to enjoy the perfect weather & it is blown.

This is when I think to myself that sometimes running just really sucks. There is one mile between me and the end of all sunshine for the day – and if I run it, it is going to go by very fast. Why does running have to be so fast?! Why does running have to rush through things?! I can feel myself getting ticked off.

At running. Because, of course, it’s not my fault that I didn’t bring my own water. It’s running’s fault. If running weren’t ally running-y, I wouldn’t need to carry water. Or feel like a pack mule. Or try to remember where I hid water bottles I put out long ago & then couldn’t find when I got there. If running weren’t all running-y.

If running were a person, I would have called it a blockhead and pulled away the football. In that moment, I would’ve chucked a snowball at the back of running’s head & then hid behind a car.  I WOULD’VE MOONED RUNNING. Seriously disheartening moment – looking one way down the road at the rest of my pretty imagined route and looking the other way back at responsibility, adulthood, green vegetables on my plate.

So I walked the mile back. Slowly. For that one experience, I quit on running. Because running was going to take away 5 extra minutes of sunlight, and it needed punked.  I let myself just enjoy the walk. And I’m okay with that.

And of course, the answer to everything is that I should make a habit of carrying my own water. Suck it up Buttercup, it’s part of the sport and all that. All that I’ll start doing next time. Whether I like it or not, I’ve got to be okay with that – at least until the fountains go back on. Pack mule season commence! (yes, that exclamation looks sarcastic).

Tomorrow will be a running group day – in rainy 40-degrees – and I will be back at it. All running-y. With my water bottle. And there will be no excuse – in the crappy, rainy 40-degree-ness – to cut a run short. Grrrrr.

  1. Steena says:

    I think you’re going to have to suck it up and carry a small handheld! I have a small one, it’s like the size of the palm of my hand, it’s not heavy, it has a strap and a pocket. It’s really not a pain in the ass to carry.


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