Getting back my groove

Feeling better today. Ran 7k without any pain last night. Well, maybe a little pain, but nothing more than your normal wear and tear. Only drawback was that it was indoors again.

 However, I discovered yet another great motivation for staying on the treadmill longer. Narcissistic bi*ch that I was, I found great motivation in the smooth shiny window right in front of the treadmill. Of course I wasn’t after the breathtaking view of the metro. I was after my reflection. Actually, any shiny surface that would reflect myself back during my most determined moment would definitely do for me.

 There I was, running and running at a slightly more challenging pace, watching my expression change, ever on the lookout for the faltering knee, making sure I wasn’t leaving my fat arse behind, singing (out of tune of course) silently with kylie minogue (perfect song to pick up that pace would be Disco Down). And it felt good. Nutrition played an important part in my good run yesterday. I have finally accepted that if I want to keep running, I have to forego some of my greatest loves in this lifetime: chips, sugar, and anything that has a slightly higher percentage of fat. Yes sir, it’s a great sacrifice but tough love demands that I give up my long standing affair with chocolates. At least on running days anyway.

 I also realized that coffee does not affect the way I run. I make sure to start with an empty bladder but caffeinated drinks do not really affect my hydration level. Of course I have to keep testing this as I increase my pace and mileage, but so far so good. Huge relief of course since I have limited my vices to that one cup (or five) of happiness that comes with splenda.

 Continuing on with the realizations, I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot run when on the verge of complete emotional breakdown. Ok, ok, I’m being dramatic here. Let me rephrase. I realized I cannot run when I am out of sorts emotionally. To me, it is the same as actually being down with a cold. Just like a respiratory infection, I need to find another avenue for physical activity when my heart is restless. But only for the first day. At any sign of feeling a tad bit better, it is time to lace up my overused (and unappreciated) addidas and hop on the treadmill. Which is exactly what I did yesterday. I wasn’t a hundred percent over the hump (resolution of the melodrama—which turned out to be nothing but needless fretting on my part, came later in the evening), but I started running just to beat the poor performance of the other day. Nothing beats being in constant competition with yourself.