Sunday, July 26, 2015

It's like this...

I think it's been two weeks today since I last ran.
Bummer.
I've been patiently taking it easy in an attempt to let my Achilles' tendon issue resolve itself. 
(Something about an angry run on pavement coupled with the fact that my shoes are beat)...oops.
The old me would've pushed through and stubbornly ran a crapload of miles on the beach last week (and would be paying the price now with an even worse injury, I'm sure).
Alas, I'm learning.
Learning to be patient.
Learning that rest and recovery are biggies (wait, I knew that already...I just need to actually do just that; rest & recover. Duh)...
I've been on my bike a bit and as always, riding my bike in the woods makes me happy.
And doesn't seem to aggravate the tendon issue.
A nice, solid jaunt on the trails fixes just about anything (or at least clears my head for a while; you know, making room for stuff that actually matters instead of all the crap I'm constantly worrying about).
Which brings me to...

I'm back at therapy.
It started before I went on vacation (funny timing, right?)...
I've had this sadness/flatness pulling at me for a while...I can't point to a specific cause or stressor or situation.
"It's the biochemical part of depression,"
Is what I've been told.
Oh.
Right.
It's not always circumstantial.
There doesn't have to be a reason.
Therapy is weird and tiring and sometimes awkward and almost always helpful/productive.
I've said it before: No shame in my mental health game.
I'm less than proud of the kind of mom/wife/friend I am when I'm not taking care of myself...
I am fortunate to have options and support and the means to seek out help.

We are in the thick of summertime...
I love July and I'm not ready for it to end.



Wednesday, July 8, 2015

(more) On Running...

Every time I've finished a running race lately, I vow to put running aside and get back on my bike.
And then another race comes up and I run again.
And again.
On the Fourth of July, I did the Good Neighbor Day 10k (same race I did the day after my mom's funeral last year)...
I feel like that one is going to be a tradition/ritual for me.
This year, I felt more like a runner as I found my way to the start and felt even more like a runner when I came through the first lap in twenty-five minutes.
I'm not chasing a particular time or result, but I'm trying to learn how to pace myself.
I'm toying with the idea of doing a half-marathon with a good friend of mine...if that's the case, I may finally tap into my husband's wisdom and cobble together an actual training plan.
Last time I formally trained for an athletic endeavor was cross...
Maybe it's time for a little structure again, I don't know.

On the flip side, I did get back on my bike this week.
I treated myself to a babysitter and enjoyed a solid ninety minutes riding in the woods.
(still got it)
Although my legs hadn't recovered from the 10k, I still climbed just fine and felt very comfortable on the trails.
It was fun to zone out and just pedal at my own pace...sometimes casually, sometimes hard.

So.
Before springtime, I was determined to put cross back on my radar and train for racing again.
Now, I am not so sure.
Or rather, I'm pretty sure I'm not delving back into that with all my heart yet.
The beauty of this little conundrum is that my decision isn't really all that important either way...
Are you ever just so thankful that you actually like sweating/maxing out your heart rate/conquering big hills/trying to rip the competition's legs off (even when the competition is just yourself)?
I don't know what makes me this way, but I'm certainly thankful to have found happiness on two wheels/two feet.