So, remember those past few weeks when I was on my happy high of "if you let is all go, look, you magically run better and farther"?
Actual footage of me last week ...
Remember? Remember magic of going further than I have since my Tiny Overlord was a bean in the tummy, just a few weeks ago?
Well. Then that same Tiny Overlord brough home her latest daycare germs. She had a fever for a day, and a runny nose for two. Then her little supercharged immune system pushed it right out.
My 40-year-old, end-of-term-professor-drained immune system picked it up right after that, and turned it into a sinus infection. I tried to just rest-tea-repeat my way out of it, but after driving home from work with a pressure headache so bad I was crying on the highway (and as anyone in the DMV knows, y'all DO NOT want to cry on I-66 -- too many crazies in those lanes), I broke down and went to urgent care. Some meds started to slowly clear me up, but by that point, I had been about 10 days with no running. I'd been such a snot-monster, I had not even really walked much, as my Apple Watch kept reminding me. (Watch: "400 more calories and you'll close your Move Ring Robyn! So worth it" Me: SHUT UP YOU.)
Finally, on Monday, I woke as only a half snot-monster: I could breathe without running to Kleenex for more than 10 minutes.
I was also feeling low, low, LOW. For me, running is a huge part of mental health. It is one tool in my arsenal of medication and therapy to help keep my anxiety and depression in check. Getting sick also always makes me depressed. Combine sick feeling + no movement for more than a week, and it was gloomtown over here. So I knew I had to try to get out there.
Me and Eyeore, we understand each other.
So, do you just come back from time off running feeling totally refreshed and awesome?
NOPE! ME EITHER.
Instead, any time I take time off, it feels like I have to start from scratch again. And that is so. dang. FRUSTRATING. I'd been slowly adding on and feeling buildup for a solid three months -- a week and a half felt like it undid it all.
But my mind was still low, low, low. I knew I NEEDED to run, even if I did not want to.
And, of course, those first blocks our were miserable. The snot-monster came back in full, and I was shooting lovely sticky streams into my Kleenex (and ok, into the corner of my sleeve once those ran out) every few minutes. I felt like I couldn't get my breathing down right. My arms hurt pushing teh stroller.
And a run of HALF the time of that recent triumph felt like a full marathon ... even though I was going twice as slow.
Yes, I know: I just was saying how important it is to let go of expectations, and that this whole blog is about feeling good, not time or miles or weight or medals.
I had timed to run to get to the Tiny Overlord's toddler soccer class, and I was grumping over that pace a bit, but soon was distracted by a dozen two year olds scrambling for goals (and putting themselves in the net as often as the ball, TBH). A few minutes into the class, I realized I felt ... good. Oh yes, the snot was still there. But I could feel a total shift in my mood: I was laughing at the kiddos, smiling at the glimpse of sun we were getting in an otherwise gloomy week, and just generally looking forward to the rest of the day.
