Sometimes I feel like I’ve taken on too much. I’m regularly working overtime, I’m attending school, and I’m trying (not very well) to get running again. I’m lucky to get 6 or seven hours of sleep. So I ask myself: Why bother? Half the people I know ask me the same thing: Why bother?
Anyone who ever ran with me as a teenager, when running was the only thing that mattered, knows the answer. Ultra runners, triathletes, and Tough Mudders know the answer. The feeling of success, the competition… I miss it. I have projects I’m working on at work, I have school, but I have nothing that’s producing results. a single race can change that. Just having a good run can change that. Having a series of bad runs, or missing a week or two of running altogether – that’s just depressing.
Today I went out anticipating running a moderately paced 2.5 mile loop around my neighborhood. I couldn’t even finish the first half mile. I walked a bit, then decided the morning was completely wasted. I felt utterly defeated. The rest of the day seemed like one half-ass task after another, until I sat down to write this.
So there are good days and there are days like this. Somewhere within, the voice of my father nags me:
Son, you can’t have a good run if you don’t get out and run at all. Suck it up, get out there, and get a run in.
That’s why I bother. I have to keep trying because the feeling of a good run will be worth it. I have to keep striving toward my goals or I’ll never have the satisfaction of meeting them. I need to run. So on my next run day (two days from now) I’m going to get up with my alarm and put my body through as much as it can take, and put the toughest part of my day behind me. Doesn’t really change how pissed I am about today, but at least it gives me something to look forward to.