This weekend, I was supposed to be running a marathon in Wrightsville Beach. I was supposed to have the weekend off. I was supposed be well-rested and feeling fit, and ready to run. I was supposed to be fueling and hydrating and carbo-loading. I was supposed to be preparing to spend a day recovering.
There are a lot of things I was supposed to be doing this weekend, but I'm not doing any of them. Instead, I am spending my weekend at work. Hans and I will be picking out a washer and dryer for the kennel tomorrow, and I'm teaching lessons all day today. Later today, I will head to the gym for a short run (somewhere around a mile), and I will hope that it lifts my spirits a little as well as wakes me up a lot.
The reality is that this injury sucks. I'm thrilled that I'm finally coming back from it, but I'm so disappointed that I backslid so far. Since December, I've put on weight, my pace has slowed, and my endurance is gone. The tone and strength I had in my legs is missing, and I get winded just from teaching a lesson.
I know that getting back into running will help. I know that once I'm truly back on a schedule I'll feel more energized and healthier and happier. I know that in the long run, I'll look back and see this as just a healthy lesson in not overdoing things. For now, though, it's hard not to beat myself up. It's especially hard when you're tired, sore, and lacking in serious motivation. Any tips?
Well, I'm going to end my little pity party here. I have a lesson coming up in a few minutes, and I need to be prepared. I know I'll come back from this, but today is my day of disappointment. I wanted to run a marathon this weekend, and I'll be lucky if I can go over a mile. That's disappointment.