After my half marathon this weekend, my obsessive brain is all “don’t lose your fitness!” even though it’s only been a week (as of tomorrow). There’s some basis for this. When I ran my half in college I distinctly remember my dad saying to take a few days off and then keep running. But then I took something like four or five months off? Then jumped back into training and upped my miles too quickly, hurt my knee, and ruined my chance of running a marathon that spring, as had been my plan. This spiraled with the rest of my life making my senior year a little bit of a depressive mess.
It’s a lesson I haven’t forgotten, even though it’s taken me years to get back into running. When I ran the 10-mile race in November, that evening I played in a volleyball game and then went for a run the next morning. On the run after that, my knee pain flared up out of nowhere and I had to manage a near spiral, take a running course to correct my form, and convince myself to chill and slowly build back up to the distance to run a half about two months later than I wanted. Maybe an overcorrection?
Honestly, I’m not sure where the balance is. I ran hard last weekend, faster than I ever have and was wiped afterward (but really happy too). I took the next two days off, feeling too sore anyway to seriously think about running, and then dragged myself out for a slow three miles on Wednesday, followed by a four-mile on Thursday.
This morning, I had it in my head to go for a longer run. A 12, 13, or 14 as I had pre-raced imagined (why not just keep going up?) seemed out of the question given how tired my muscles still felt and some pain I’d been experiencing in my left hamstring, but I thought I could squeeze out a steady eight or nine on the trail. Plus it’d be the only time I could leave my apartment with the current social distancing.
My body was on a different page. I ended up going a little over nine miles, but probably two-thirds of it was walking. I wasn’t in pain, but my breathing couldn’t seem to keep up and my legs still felt tired. It’s a little warmer than it’s been recently too, in the 70s and humid, and I was feeling it. Walking isn’t something I ever do on runs — usually, I just stop if I need a breather which has happened less and less, and I didn’t stop or walk during my half marathon at all. But today, walking is what happened.
In the past, this would trigger some major panic in my brain, but that’s not what happened today. Sure, it was disappointing I could not go for an “easy” nine-mile, but I listened to my body and ran and walked in intervals as needed and enjoyed being in nature. There was no real pain, after all, I was only tired and that isn’t permanent. Maybe it was the three beers I had last night . . . or, you know, the fucking race I ran last weekend. Run/walking over nine miles is still pretty good exercise.
I guess this is a message to myself to keep remaining calm and listening to my body. Yes, I want to get stronger and run longer and have new goals. But every training day doesn’t need to, and won’t ever, be perfect. Some days the win is about getting out there and moving. Check.
With Love,
Natalie