Where does the motivation come from? When I really don't want to go out and run I can find any type of excuse to go to the gym and not run outside. At least I run on the treadmill, you say, but it doesn't come close to the hills of this city. I can run on the treadmill for a long time, yesterday it was for 1hr 20 min, with only one bathroom break. The last time I ran outside was on Saturday morning with Danielle. The weather was beautiful (I put on sunscreen) and we even wore the same t-shirt (!), which was cool until we were walking and people were staring... We had a nice pace, didn't walk too much and even conquered hard hills. All in all, a great run to start a great day. This week, as the weather was totally going manic depressive on us, seeing people running outside in all weather causing me a pang of desire to join them, I came to the realization that I really do love running, outside, inside, mostly outside, just not alone. When I don't have anyone to share the pain with, I opt for the indoors, something there will distract me. So this week, I went to the gym instead, no matter that Thursday's weather was the nicest it has been since November. I think that once I have more time and the weather is back on its meds, I will go out on my own or with Danielle, (or anyone else who would like to join me, but that I can get along with...) and run.
Last night someone asked me how I find the time to train for the half marathon. I told him that I don't find the time, I do what I can and I am pretty confident that I will succeed, it just might take longer than if I had trained properly for it.
Mind over matter. No pain no gain. Running for a cause?
If you find my motivation, please send it back to me. New ideas are welcome too.
Until next time.
Peace.
One type of motivation: Competition...
ReplyDeleteFitness Goals: Run. Race. Beat the Boyfriend.
By JEN A. MILLER
When I look at a fresh calendar and start penciling in races, a lot of things factor into what makes the cut. Did I run the race last year? Do I want to tackle a challenging new course? Is it close to home, or somewhere I want to travel to? What’s the fee? Does it have a cool medal or T-shirt?
Throw in one more criterion this year: Will it give me more race miles than my boyfriend? My boyfriend, the one who says, “I’m not a real runner, I just do this to stay in shape,” beat me by 0.03 miles in 2010. There’s no way I’m letting him accumulate more mileage than me in 2011.
When we met last June, he and I were taking time off from our respective amateur sports — soccer for him, running for me. I was recovering from a hip injury, and most of our exercise seemed to consist of lingering at outdoor cafes, lying on the beach or walking to a bar that was more than a block away.
The start of his soccer season in August coincided with the beginning of my half-marathon training. I said I’d watch his games, and he offered to go with me on my first few long runs. I’d planned them for Saturdays, starting at four miles and ending at 10 in October.
Fine, I thought. I was rehabbing an injury and needed to do those long runs at an easy pace. I welcomed having a novice along, someone who only occasionally ran a 5K, to slow me down, at least at the start of training. He swore he would stop when the runs hit six miles.
Six miles became seven, then eight. The loping 10-minute-per-mile pace I envisioned dropped to 9:30, then 9. Despite his claims, up until my last week of training, that he was not running the actual half-marathon, there he was in front of me on race day, crossing the finish line 30 seconds before I did.
And then I did the math. Earlier in the year, before meeting me, he had run a five-miler, on the same weekend I ran an 8K. Eight kilometers equals 4.97 miles. He was 0.03 miles ahead of me.
I told him I was going to hop into a Turkey Trot, a 5K race in a nearby town, on a day I knew he couldn’t run. “No problem,” he said. He switched his schedule to run the race with me. And beat me. Again.
In December, we went on vacation, then shuffled back and forth between our families for the holidays. I considered jumping into a midnight 5K being run a few miles from his house late in the year. “Sorry, babe, I just have to walk the dog. Don’t mind that I’m carrying a gym bag or that I won’t be back for a couple of hours.” I didn’t think he’d buy it.
So how was it possible that he’d beaten me? I was the runner in the relationship. He started running with me to get to know me better, figuring that long stretches on the road would forge some sort of communication path between us.
It did. We talked about everything, even topics that made us uncomfortable, like his brief marriage and my alcoholic ex-boyfriend. Those long runs forced us to talk, and formed the foundation for our relationship.
But those .03 miles still burn, so I’m plotting. He’ll be playing in soccer tournaments in the spring, so I’ve added an April half-marathon. He’s scheming too, making commitments to summer races, which he knows I hate. I registered for the New York City Marathon lottery; he didn’t. If I’m picked, there’s no way he can make up those 26.2 race miles that I’ll be running without him.
But if I do get in to the marathon, it means I’ll be doing many more Saturday long runs — and, because of his soccer commitments, they’ll most likely be on my own. There will be no one I can tease for complaining that it’s too cold. No one to agree that the driver in the big S.U.V. that almost hit me was definitely in the wrong. And no one to talk me through those last painful miles on a bad training run.
Before I met him, I craved the solitude of those long, lonely runs. Now I want his wry companionship next to me for every mile.
Well, almost every mile.