Somewhere along the way, running became less enjoyable. I don't remember if it was the time when I almost had to walk home from a hot 14 mile run, or if it was the day when I tried to run 8 miles, but only ended up running 2. I tried to stay focused, I tried to rest, and I tried to stay motivated... but nothing worked. Each week, I watch myself "deteriorate". Running was no longer an escape, but a burden. The burden became heavier and heavier each week, as I began to doubt my ability to run a marathon. It got to the point that I couldn't even fathom finishing a half marathon that is coming up in October. What happened, I ask myself, what changed?
Through some soul searching, I figured out a few things. A little bit about myself first. I am a competitive person by nature. I like being good at something because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. In fact, that is how I define myself. In a way, without my accomplishments, I feel that I have little else. To a certain extent, it pushes me to work harder, try harder, compete harder.
I am also ruled by fear and insecurities, as with most people. However, my fear of failure runs deep. Back in high school, I competed in academic decathlon. Before the county competition awards banquet, I told my parents not to come, believing that I would not win anything. I didn't want to disappoint my parents by having them there. So I sat there, while everyone else's parents took pictures at the banquet. When the awards were announced, I had 3 first places, 1 second place, and I was the all-around first place in the county. My team and I were going to the state competition. I remember at that time regretting not letting my parents come. At the same time, I was already thinking about the state competition, and how I would not be able to win anything there. I got second place in the speech portion at State.
What does this have to do with running you ask? Everything. My competitive nature got me through the first half marathon. However, pushing forward, my fear swallowed me whole. I used my Garmin to track every run. I obsessed over my pace, mileage, and heart rate. Every training run was a competition. If I ran slower than the last time, I wonder why I am slower. Was it my nutrition? Did I lose some fitness? Am I getting too fat to run? Self doubt bubbled to the top and overflowed. I lost confidence as a runner. No, actually, I never believed I was a runner. In the mirror, I don't look like a runner. In my mind, I don't feel like a runner. Looking at my pace, I didn't feel like I was fast enough to be called a runner.
Before every run, it took so much out of me to actually make it out the door. There were times when I put on all of my running gear, but only to retreat back. During the run, I keep feeling like I am out of breath. I run faster, and I get more out of breath. I look at my increasing heart rate, and I panic even more. The cycle rolls until I mentally break down. Are my legs really tired, or was it just my head telling me that? For every little step forward, I take huge steps back.
After some soul searching, I have decided to go back to find the reason why I started running in the first place. I want to find that glorious feeling back, to taste the sweet bliss of running like I was flying, free as a bird. Instead of counting down to my next run with dread, it should be filled with anticipation! Perhaps absence makes the heart grow fonder. So I am taking a break from running, until I feel that itch again. When I am ready, I am going on a run with just my iPod.
No numbers, no doubts, just the joy of running.
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