Running When You Don't Feel Like It

I don't want to run today. Not "I don't want to run now," or "I'm tired," or even, "I'm too busy to run." I just quite simply don't want to run. The very thought of even putting on my shoes is crushing. I've told myself that the rain has stopped and the cool temperatures and overcast sky make for ideal running conditions. I've also considered that today's tempo run--while a long one at 8 miles--is only at race pace, so it's not like I have to head out the door and kill myself, trying to hold some God awful 7 minute something pace. 

I'm not having it. I have made up my mind. I. Don't. Want. To. Run. 

Of course, I'll run anyway. It's too late in the week to give myself the day off. I've got 20 miles this Saturday (the LAST 20-miler of the training--WHOO HOO!!) and so I need to take Friday as a rest day. That means that, like it or not, the tempo run is happening today. 

I think of it as a mental toughening. There are some race days where, regardless of the countless hours spent on the road, you line up at the start line and think, "I am not feeling it today." Guess what? Too bad. Run anyway. You may not have a great run, but you will run. 

That's what I'm facing today. I'm not feeling it. It's probably not going to be a good run. I may not make it the entire 8 miles or hold pace but guess what? Today I am running. 

The hardest step is always the first one. Time to go lace up those shoes. 

Update on 2011-10-13 16:19 by Dena Harris

Well now, don't I feel foolish. I ran on the treadmill and had a great run. Only ran 7, but I ran faster than pace and added a 2% incline, so I'll forgive myself the last mile. Once I started, I knew after the first half mile I was going to have a good run. So see, another reason to get out there and run... you never know which days are going to be your good ones. 

For All You Runners Out There...

My trainer sent this to me. Yes, it's a big commercial for Nike, but the words perfectly capture the runner's experience.

NIKE

You pretended the snooze button didn’t exist.  You dragged your butt out of bed while others slept, while others ate their pancakes.  You had a feast of protein, glucose and electrolytes.  You double knotted.  You left the front porch light on and locked the door behind you.  You ran.  5k’s, 10k’s, 26.2 miles.  Some days more, some days less.  You rewarded a long run with a short run and a short run with a long run.  Rain tried to slow you down.  Sun tried to microwave you.  Snow made you feel like a warrior.  You cramped.  You bonked.  You paid no mind to comfort.  On weekends, on holidays, you made excuses to keep going.  Questioning yourself.  Played mind games.  Put your heart before your knees.  Listened to your breathing.  Sweat sunscreen into your eyes.  Worked on your farmer’s tan.  You hit the wall.  You went through it.  You decided to be a man about it.  You decided to be a woman about it.  Finished what you started.  Proved what you were made of.  Just kept putting mile after mile on your internal odometer.  For 25 years you ran.  And we ran with you.  How much farther will we go? 

As far as you will.