There have been plenty good ones. A seven miler in the burbs with my dad on his bike. A faster run of 5.5 miles in the rain, primarily because I had an afternoon engagement that would not tolerate tardiness. A sixer with K of TS. A solo sixer this past Friday - perfect, crisp, sunny winter. And many other winter runs in cold, but refreshing conditions. I remember a short but fun 4 miler with Baby last week. We stopped midway to touch base, and when I peeled down the weather shield, she pointed and exclaimed in delight, "snow!!" Nothing but smiles. Yes, snow. We'd play in it we when returned home. "Snow," she reported again.
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| midrun stop - Baby eyeing the snow |
My weekly mileage is hovering around 20 miles. I'm consistent, if nothing else.
The Bad
Sometimes runs are bad. There isn't always a reason. Dead legs, bad weather, and fatigue can kill an otherwise great run. My Resolution Run on January first wasn't as good as I wanted it to be. The cold and wind put up a hell of a fight. There have been a few three milers that just felt rushed (and not in a speedy kind of way..more of a let's-get-this-over kind of way). I ran in 3 degrees on the first of February..with Baby..to and from an excursion. It was only eleven minutes each way, with a big (warm!) break in-between. Both times, my fingers nearly froze to death. Baby, however, was warm and bundled. My virtual 5K on February 2 was much warmer (relatively speaking) but snow and ice slowed me down considerably. Can't win 'em all.
The Ugly
There were two runs so far this year that I should never have begun. One was back on January 16. A random Wednesday. I returned home from a morning event flustered and stressed out. I needed to do something to unwind. I had about an hour before nap time, so I whipped up a "fast lunch" for Baby to eat on the run. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but I ignored my growling stomach and set out for a quick run. About two minutes in, my stomach roared and my legs buckled in protest. Baby's eyes began to flutter. She was on her way to dreamland. I got six minutes in and came face to face with a terrific headwind. The stroller stopped dead in its tracks. My pony went horizontal as my eyes tried to blink out the breeze. Baby looked at me, head cocked slightly, ensuring me that this was a bust. We returned home with a mile and a half under our belts. Bust.
And yesterday. All day, rain had been coming down periodically, almost as if someone was turning a faucet on and off. It looked clear when we set out for a short family run. But light rain was falling, and light rain in the presence of vicious wind isn't so gentle. Our faces stung from the tiny drops pelting us with each gust. Puddles became like lakes blocking our way. Some we tried to hurdle; others soaked our shoes faster than we could say "shit." We knew it was a mistake. The best we could do was keep moving forward. We cut our run to two miles. Called it a day. Another bust.
And yesterday. All day, rain had been coming down periodically, almost as if someone was turning a faucet on and off. It looked clear when we set out for a short family run. But light rain was falling, and light rain in the presence of vicious wind isn't so gentle. Our faces stung from the tiny drops pelting us with each gust. Puddles became like lakes blocking our way. Some we tried to hurdle; others soaked our shoes faster than we could say "shit." We knew it was a mistake. The best we could do was keep moving forward. We cut our run to two miles. Called it a day. Another bust.
Runs can fall into countless categories. That's not a surprise. But I keep plowing through, standing up to the weather and looking my running log in the eye. Each time I mark down a distance and time, I feel I've won. Even when it looks like I've lost. I'm a runner. For better or worse.
1 comment:
Ugh, I hate those failed runs! Especially when you go to the trouble of getting the stroller out and everything. Hopefully that's the last of the "ugly" for a good long time. :)
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