Last week, I had a bit of a triathlon meltdown. I was (well, still am) fighting an injury, and let myself get in a funk. During said funk, I promptly decided that I am not cut out for Half Ironman training, and that I don’t even like it, nor do I have time for it. (Disclaimer: none of these things is actually true. This is the power of a “funk.”)
In one of my tear-filled conversations with J, he figured it out for me.
In a stress-filled life, running used to be my escape.
I looked forward to my workouts all day, crossing all my crossables that my schedule would allow it. I was inconsistent. Lots of times, work or sleep won out over training. I got in enough runs to comfortably do the races I signed up for. Summertime brought a freer schedule and structured training routine; the school year meant I’d fit it in
when if I could.
Once I was running, I’d zone out. Or solve all the world’s problems, only to forget the solutions before I made it out of the post-run shower. I liked running with friends, but I lived for the runs spent inside my own head, which were usually my only alone time.
And then I took the stress out of my life.
Now, my training is still “me” time that I enjoy, but I’m not running away from anything anymore. I love my job — all of it. All of the extra things that I spend my time doing, (including — but not limited to — triathlon training) have been carefully chosen. I don’t spend much time doing things out of obligation. I fill my days with things I love. Running is just one of the many.
It sounds obnoxious. Feel sorry for me. I’m so busy doing things I love that I am having trouble finding time to do all the things I love. Obnoxious though it may be, it’s true. Now that I’m not running away from the stress of everyday life, I have to be even more deliberate about planning my training into my days.
Crisis averted. Schedule set. Thanks, J.