Not Tonight, Buffalo Bill

I honestly didn't want to write this post. But I think it has to be done. So here it goes. Today? I quit. I mean, not training completely. But I quit halfway through my run.

I started work this week, and everything has fallen apart. And it's only Tuesday. I didn't run yesterday, and I barely slept because I was working on... well, work. I also didn't really eat today. I just kept drinking coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Probably I am keeping Starbucks in business this week. My barista knows my order. Maybe I have a problem.

Anyway, I got home today at dusk and knew I had to run. I already missed yesterday. No excuses, self. There's a medal at stake. I quickly got dressed and went outside. (Mind you, it's freezing cold. At least for southern California.)

The first song that came on my playlist was "Do it With a Rockstar"  by Amanda Palmer. Which is a GREAT song. However, today I noticed she asks over and over, "Do you want to go back home?"And all I could think was, "YES. I DO. WHY IS IT THIS COLD? HOW FAR HAVE I GONE?" (I totally was thinking in caps-lock.) My legs started hurting. My side started hurting. My nose WOULD HAVE run, but it was so cold it all froze. Into some sort of snot-cicle. Or just really cold snot. Either way. My shirt didn't feel right. The street lights came on. And then I realized I had only gone half a mile. Just. Half. A. Mile. 

And in that moment it felt right to sit on the curb and feel sorry for myself. Why would I even do this? Half a mile? I suck at running. This whole thing is torture. No way can I make it 13.1 miles. How did I ever do it before? Is there ANYONE that could come pick me up and drive me back the HALF MILE home? Because my whole body hurt. And I was tired. And then maybe that person could bring pizza and beer. Maybe I could just order pizza. And HE'D drive me home. Do they deliver beer?

It was a grand pity party. But then it happened... It got dark. And suddenly every single approaching pair of headlights was Buffalo Bill in his crazy murder van trying to catch me and turn me into his creepy lady-suit. And I realized not only was it freezing, but my irrational "Silence of the Lambs" based phobia was way worse than whatever personal issue I was having with running. And I quickly ran home. In record time. 

And when I got home, I realized it's fine. I can't run a half-marathon yet. That's why I am training. I am going to trust the process. And maybe try to eat and sleep before running. My two mile run became a one mile runwalkpitypartysprint. No big. I'm going to stop working for the night, eat dinner, and watch Downton Abbey. Because Matthew Crawley makes everything all better. There's not ALWAYS tomorrow. But, statistically speaking, I have a pretty good shot at having a tomorrow. Stay tuned.