Payneful

So if you did a lot of eye-rolling while reading my last post, here's the real deal: not every day on the trail is about speed/sunshine/rainbows/etc. In fact, if you were to study my running and enthusiasm-of for one month, you'd find I usually have three kinds of training days:

1.) ZOMG I LOVE SPEED. It's like I'm just rediscovering that I have feet, and then those shoes! And then HOLY CRAP WHEN I PUT ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER I MOVE. Those are the best days. The ones where I crave to be fast, where I want to see the world become a blur as I push myself harder and harder. Yeah, those days are all shiny running shoes and tubby, annoyingly cheerful angels.

2.) Uhhh, I can just run tomorrow, right? It's cold or something. These are the days where I have to practically drag myself out the door and grudgingly stumble toward the trail. Because, in reality, I could be doing a whole lot cooler things with my day. Like sitting on my ass and eating chips. I like chips.

3.) F*** LIFE. Remember when I talked about coming back from TDE? Those few weeks when I ran just to cause myself pain? Well, those days still come and go. BUT at least I'm channeling my frustration into something productive, right? I think?

Today was an example of the third. Somehow, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and by breakfast I was practically fuming about my situation. I barely have money, I have no job prospects, no one will hire me, I don't even have my own place, blah blah blah. My parents politely inquired if I could do a few things around the house, and I was all OHMYGAWD I'M BUSY CAN'T YOU SEE LIFE IS TOTALLY SHAFTING ME RIGHT NOW? And then after a bit of quiet huffing/puffing, I decided that I needed to punish myself. I needed to feel pain - because with pain, there comes strength. So I laced-up and stomped out the door.

According to the schedule, I had a 4-mile, easy jog today. But where's the pain in 4 miles? In doing things easy? No, today would be 7 miles. Today would be as hard as I could go for as long as possible. I wanted that stitch my side, and that strain of my muscles. I wanted that feeling at the end of a run where all you want to do is throw-up and curl into the fetal position. If life wanted to push me, I would push myself harder, and I would come out the other side stronger.

So I ran. My legs screamed at me. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse. My stomach felt like it would want nothing more than to evacuate the local population onto the pavement. And you know what? At the end of the run, my crappy mood was gone. Along with any feeling in my arms or face.

To tell you the truth, I don't know if trying to break myself like I do on these off days is a good idea. But I do know it helps me feel productive. After these runs, I feel like maybe I'm not just a lump of useless flesh, you know? Like maybe I'm still capable, even if I haven't been able to find a job...

Annnyway, if you ever see a guy running around Wilmington with an iPod strapped to his arm and a light blue beanie on his head, that's me! And then you can point and laugh at the crazy kid, because who actually wears beanies anymore? Huh? Amirite?