Hi.  My name is Colin.  It’s been ten days since I’ve run.  And boy did it show.

My intent was to do 10k last night.  I mean, how hard could it be?  I’ve done it before, the weather was perfect, and I had a boatload of time available after work.  Easy-peasey.

I started out, with a mission to “go long”, and hit a trail that’s about 3km from the house.  It’s a short trail, but it’s kinda like a victory lap for me — I’ve only done that one a few times, and there’s loads of hills getting there and back, but the payoff is beautiful wooded scenery — and yesterday seemed like the day to tackle it again.

But in truth, I wasn’t really feeling it as I laced up my shoes.  I haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s really sucked the life out of me.  I spied David Johndrow’s book, ICU to Marathon, on my desk, however, and knew I needed to get out, and put my feet on the street.

I set out, and the first 3-4km were great.  The body parts were in motion, and working well.  However, around the time I got to my happy trail, things started to fall apart.  My pace fell way off, my feet were beginning to bother me (just tired and sore — no blisters!), and I knew the return home was gonna be miserable.

I exited the trail, and returned to the sidewalk that would carry me home, knowing that I had a tough 2-3km ahead of me.  I climbed the hills, and slowly made my way home.  At one point, Darla passed me on her way home from work, and I was so done, I tried to flag her down for a ride back, but she didn’t see me.

Along the way, I met this beautiful Landseer, Mr. Jibs.  He’s barked at me a gazillion times on one of the back trails through the neighborhood, and it was great to finally meet him.  He’d been sheared for the summer, leaving only that monstrous head and fluffy tail looking like they’re supposed to.  And, his owner drives a Wrangler.  Good taste.

I waddled home, short of my 10k distance, and felt like I’d been hit by a truck.  My body was beaten, my brain was questioning why I’d ever chosen to engage in running, and I began this awful death spiral of “what ifs” and “whys”.  I went to bed early, feeling considerably better this morning, and having some welcome clarity of thought.

At the end of the day, running is a couple of things for me.  One is consistency.  If I keep myself regularly moving, and not allowing myself to have excuses not to go out, it’ll come easier than it did last night.

It’s also mass across a distance.  The less mass I have to carry through a distance, the easier that’ll come.  And again, that’s just commitment, dedication and keeping my eye on the prize.

I don’t know that I’d say last night was any kind of epiphany for me — there’s nothing there I didn’t already know.  However, I do believe I got a dope slap of reality concerning my commitment to this, and to my future self.  I wanna still be doing this ten, twenty, maybe thirty years from now, and the changes I make now are critical to ensuring that’s possible.

This event benefitted the Testicular Cancer Society.

Race Course