Sure, it’s a little thing. But to get back on track, it often starts with a very simple step. Putting on your shoes, lacing them up, and heading out the door. It really can be that easy to get things back in motion. And here is proof of that success:
Last week, I wanted to give myself a goal of running between 9 and 15 miles. Sure, I barely made it (9 and change!), but success is success. It doesn’t matter if you win by 1, or by 100. It doesn’t matter if you reach your goal time by one second, or one hour. Accomplishment is accomplishment, no matter how you look at it.
This week, I’m hoping for more of the same. Ideally, I’d like to run four times for around the same amount of miles (9-15). There’s an interesting race a bunch of friends are doing in June, and if I can hit my goal miles this week, I’d be on track to run that race and not die. I’d also like to see if I can bike twice and also work out once. Let’s build this up nice and slow and get back to where I was.
After falling off the horse in March, I’ve been slowly trying to get back on it. It hasn’t been easy. My motivation just hasn’t been there lately. I’ve been doing some biking and lifting, but very little running (I am INCREDIBLY far behind on my goal for 1k miles this year). I’m hoping I’m about to turn a corner, though. You see, the other day I witnessed a bunch of people who had just finished a race. They were proudly displaying their medals and talking with each other about their race, how fast they want, about that crazy lady in costume, etc. It reminded me of why I started running: for that sense of accomplishing something great. Starting with a 5k and working up to a marathon (twice!), I really felt proud each time I crossed the finish line.
Now, after NYC I was pretty much dead. I think because it was the first time I really set a goal and failed to achieve it by a wide margin. I had trained for a specific goal, I started out on a path to achieve it, and I completely fell apart a full nine miles before the finish line. That experience left me crushed. I phoned in my next race, and fully skipped the Go! St. Louis half marathon last weekend, opting for some fun instead.
But this morning I woke up, put on my shoes and ran. Sure, it was only three miles, but great things have begun with a shorter run than that. Tomorrow, I’ll try and do it again. And the next day. I’m hoping that when Sunday evening rolls around, I’ll have completed between 9 and 15 miles. I’ll consider that an excellent start on my journey back.