Not too long ago, I wrote about how great it can be to run with your significant other.
Well, remember when I mentioned some runs are better than others?
This past Saturday, I had a plan to do my long run on Saturday by myself so that I could let my hair down and relax on Sunday morning while watching the Olympic Gold Medal game at a local bar. After a solid year of turning down virtually every social event that went past 8-9pm due to baking duties (so basically, every single social event), I really wanted to relax and not worry about eating and drinking appropriately to facilitate a long run afterwards.
It seemed like a smart idea, until I was slapped in the face with a giant gust of wind as I stepped outside. When I first started running in 2008, I was so enamoured by the mere fact that I was running, that I was willing to run through anything. Rain, smog, snow, extreme cold, extreme heat…. you name it, I would proudly run through it.
But as the years went on, and the injuries piled on, I started to become a fair-weathered runner. If I really set my mind to it, I can run through anything… but lately, I just haven’t felt like forcing myself to run in extreme cold unless I have a group to meet, and forceful gusts of wind only makes me grumpy and angry.
So when I set out with Mike for our run on Saturday, he tried his best to cheer me up when he saw that I was miserable and really struggling to run against the wind. Normally, running with him makes me really happy; it’s the sport that brought us together, and it continues to bring us closer together. But I was so grumpy on Saturday, so tired of feeling beaten down, slowed down by the wind, and downright TIRED, that I did what any loving wife would do: I snapped at him and told him to stop talking.
Yeah, I did that.
Mercifully, he hit his turnaround point shortly after and I was left to finish the rest of my long run alone. Of course, I immediately regretted my mini freak out. I thought about what he was actually saying to me and started to process it. He told me to look at this run as a challenge and that the next time I was in a mentally tough running situation (like a race), I could draw from this experience and funnel that energy into kicking ass the next time. I thought about my goals for this year (number 1 is to stay uninjured!), and how I would really love to end the year with some tangible proof that I’ve actually improved. My thoughts kept me occupied and I stopped counting down the kilometres. Before I knew it, I was on my way home, with the wind at my back not nearly as miserable. I made it back home feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt good, happy that I had managed to get that run out of the way. I spent the rest of the weekend catching up with friends, watching the Olympics, and relaxing. And apologizing for my outburst, of course. The things he puts up with when I get grumpy.
I’d do it all over again; fierce wind, icy sidewalks, and all. Sometimes, it’s good to run alone and get lost in your own thoughts.
Sometimes, it’s good to just run.