I have talked about the cycles of good and bad runs on numerous occasions before and yet it always catches me by surprise when things take a turn for the worse. Running was going well there for a long time but it was inevitable that my joyous pavement pounding sessions would… well, run out.
The past few weeks have been hectic; I have moved to my own small flat and though the process has run very smoothly (largely due to the incredible way my ex has handled everything and to The Boy being an invaluable practical help and a constant beacon of positivity) it has been tiring. Normally when I run I am able to process things and by the time I am done, my mind has everything mentally organised in little boxes with colour coded post-it notes to boot, but there has just been too much stuff. From mundane things, like getting the council tax set-up, furnishing the flat, getting the utilities put under my name to bigger things such as making sure the kids are happy and adjusting (they are staying with their dad with me doing the daily school run and dinners there). I like things “just so” and recently they have been more “so so”.
So running.. I did my usual 25km run on Saturday after a late start. Having spent a few shocked hours awake at night watching the horror of the Paris massacre unfold, The Boy and I slept in. It was much later than usual before I set out but the run was ok. Sunday I hit the gym and did my usual 2h session there though as my new flat is a bit further from it, running to the gym has gone from a joyful short sprint to a 2+km slog. After the workout I was absolutely wiped out and ended up having a 3.5h nap… So maybe it was the fact that it was the 3rd consecutive day of exercise today (had to shuffle my schedule around due to work reasons), but there was nothing in me. I clearly hadn’t eaten right the previous day as I was lacking in energy. My legs were tired and achey and there was just nothing, nothing in the tank. Definitely no tigers, not even a fluffy kitten. I was ready to run home after 3km but I tried to distract myself and push on. At around 7km I decided that I would allow myself to stop at 10km – the run was pure and utter misery. My heart wasn’t in it, my head wasn’t in it and my legs definitely weren’t in it. Hor-ri-ble. Somehow I managed to push on to 17km, which is nothing. I can normally do that hungover and running backwards. Just not today. By the time I got home I was barely able to see; I felt dizzy and on the brink of passing out. I just about managed to drag myself in the shower and just stood there with the hot water scolding my skin. If I’d had energy, I would have cried – that’s how annoyed I was (and still am) with myself for being such a weakling.
Hours later I am sat here in the office at my desk with still no energy. Not only are my legs still tired but everything from waist down aches as well. I could easily just drop my head on my keyboard and sleep but I guess the colleagues wouldn’t rate me too highly for doing so.. I know that bad runs happen, energy dips happen – shit happens. But it still gets to me when it does.