Saturday, September 07, 2013

One of those weeks

I have had one of those weeks.

You ever have one of those weeks? It's not the sort where everything seems to go wrong and the world is against you. I guess I'll be thankful it's not one of THOSE weeks. It's the opposite of that, in some ways. In fact, the world wasn't interested in me at all and I wasn't interested in it. Nothing particularly good or bad happened. It was just a week with time going by at a completely average and normal pace, no undue stress, no rabid anticipation. Yaaay.


I read a little, but I would pick up a book (even a good book--I just started The Summer Tree by Guy Gavriel Kay) and after awhile, find myself staring at the words in a daze. My running motivation has taken a nosedive (I really need to read that letter I wrote to myself). I would struggle to muster the energy for social interactions. Just getting myself to work on time showered and with clean clothes seemed like a victory. I haven't weeded the garden in weeks and the house badly needed vacuuming. Going on an organized grocery trip and cooking dinner was a monumental task better avoided by just snacking on cheese, crackers, and wine--or ordering out. I couldn't even get angry at the news.


These little funks, always temporary, are annoying because I know exactly how to get myself out of them. I just need to do things--run, read, water my plants. Anything to move, literally or figuratively, and give myself a sense of accomplishment. Then the gears start turning again and things are back to normal. But there's no motivation even in feeling better until the funk passes.

And like magic, yesterday, Friday, I woke up and bam, felt like new.


I'm not sure what brings these on, but I'm sure being in the aftermath of the Hood to Coast Relay has something to do with it. I always think I suffer a little bit of a burnout after training hard for something, or traveling, or even finishing a really good book, and that was all three at the same time. As far as running motivation goes, it throws a wrench into training. It used to be I'd force myself out the door no matter what. Leading up to my qualifying for Boston in 2009, motivation was rarely a problem because running so was intertwined with the insanity of that year--the aftermath of being assaulted, the trial.

But lately, even though I do want to requalify for Boston eventually, I think it's sensible to heed these feelings--it helps me stay injury free as a runner and it keeps me in enjoyment mode. It also means, of course, that I'm not likely to improve much in the near future, but I'm okay with that. For now. Like I said, Boston, eventually. I just need to get to a point where I'm mentally ready to sustain that motivation even when it comes to making myself run when I don't want to.
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