Today is July 18. This means that my next half marathon is in three months and three days. Guess who hasn’t worked out since Ragnar?
Ok, so that’s not entirely true. I lifted three times in between Ragnar and my Portland trip, but I hardly did anything active in Portland (one four-mile hike) and haven’t done anything since.
People might tell me I’m crazy, but not only can I feel a difference, I can SEE one. I am so very much not ok with it.
My arms look smaller, feel weaker. My mid-section is rapidly losing all the definition I’ve worked so hard for. My poor legs. I feel like they’re unrecognizable. I know that there are plenty who would say, “Why worry? You’re in great shape! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” but I don’t feel good right now. Perhaps I am overly sensitive to all of this.
It’s so easy to blame other things. Like the fact that it’s been a hundred fucking degrees outside for the past couple months. Or that I’ve been out of town or in recovery or have taken time specifically for friends or anything like that.
The guilt center of my brain isn’t thrilled with my excuses right now.
And so I do what I always do. I study over my workout schedule, the one that is ALWAYS a work in progress, adjusting things here and tweaking things there. I search for motivation in any place I can find, like the emails that I get about my upcoming races or a picture of a friend who just competed in a bikini body contest (in the best shape of her life at 30 years old) or a motivational quote on Twitter. I’ll take stock of what I can do to improve my nutrition, what habits I need to try to break, where I can choose healthier eating options.
Then I remember a few things. That I AM human. That I AM still in good shape. That I DID promise myself that I would take some significant time off to try to stave off burnout going into the marathon. That it HAS been an incredibly rough week emotionally which has absolutely sapped every ounce of energy I have.
But I’ll get there. By September, when that marathon training for real starts, I’ll be ready.