more stuff about running

I think I can correlate the success of a run to the amount of snot produced. More snot = less success. This morning's run = very snotty.

[I'm sure it is bad etiquette to use the word "snot" in the first sentence of a blog post. But when it comes to running, I don't really think a lot of etiquette is necessary--other than wave at cars who give you room to cross the intersection, give bikes the right-of-way on the bike trail, and say, "On your left!" when you're passing walkers from behind (unless you are passing them on the right). Oh, and don't spit your gum in somebody's yard. That's crass. Just stick it to your ipod and worry about it later. But otherwise, you are free to spit, blow your snot straight into the sidewalk, curse, and mouth-breathe without repercussion.]

However! I am still calling this morning's run a success, because it was. I proved a point to myself that attitude is the key to many operations. I was sure today would be a failure. I was sure because in the past 3 days, I have eaten nearly every single one of my trigger foods. Chips? Sure. Chocolate? Yep. Baked goods? Several. Greasy baked cheese? Delicious. Fried XYZ? Bring it. I've also been drinking too much wine. All of this turns my guts inside out (not quite literally, but almost), which depletes all my good stuff, and makes everything else harder.

I had low expectations. And the first mile felt horrible. So did miles 2-6. Finally, right around 6, I had to stop. I saw spots and squatted in a strangers yard until they went away. I chugged my gator-water (The woman at the gym who told me start running with a water bottle that straps to my hand is a genius and a saint and a very lovely person.). Then I walked. Then the Self-Bashing started. (This is a very familiar routine. I know I've said this before, but there is no one on the planet who could say anything even remotely as awful as the things I say to myself when I think I've screwed something up. I would guess you're the same. Why are we like this? It's so mean!)

BUT! And here is where success happened. I observed the auto-current of self-bashing and then stuck my finger in it. I said to myself, "You know, P. This is irrational and it gets old. Don't do this anymore." And I said Okay. I noted the weather was nice. It felt good to walk. I was glad I had my gator-water. Then after about 5 blocks, everything felt fresh. My body felt good to go, so I started running again. And the remaining 3 miles went without hitch. I didn't even falter on the Euclid hill that usually sucks the life out of me. My body just needed a quick break to replenish. What's the crime?

I don't know why I think it's such a colossal failure to stop and walk in the middle of a run. I think it's some kind of warped association between rest and weakness. That's such a skewed way of thinking--really about any endeavor at all, not just running--that perfection is possible and looks only one way. I think I might be done with that.