Getting it done

Sometimes I feel like such a slug.  I managed to run three days last week but only for about 25-35 minutes each.  I know, I know.  Sounds good, right?  I started to feel frustrated on Sunday when I woke up too late to join my running group.  With Shannon's encouragement, I got myself out for a run in my neighborhood.  A major victory since frustration tends to staple my butt to the couch.  While running, though, I just started to feel really heavy.  My legs felt like tree trunks, not wanting to move at all.  I managed to get my minutes done, but the negative self-talk began to creep in to my head, despite Britney Spears and Beyoncé in my ear.  The main theme was, "If you hadn't have taken so much time off you wouldn't be feeling so shitty.  You'd be running for hours on end without so much as a pain.  But, noooooo!  You decided to take a couple of months off, gain a few pounds and well, here you are.  Too bad for you."  It was bad.  I tried to focus on my stride, on my breathing, on my surroundings (the lake, the people out for walks, etc), but that voice wouldn't quit.  Today's run was a bit more of the same, though the voice was not as bad.  I was able to quiet it down with "What's done is done! Move on already."  That seemed to be the best mantra so far (other than my marathon mantra which was "Leave some in the tank so you can finish strong," which I did.)  So, I'm trying.  I'm also trying to figure out what happened along the post-marathon way...I think I have some of it figured out.

When the adoption fell through in early September, I had the marathon to focus on. When the marathon was done, my goals were less concrete (there was no more baby to take care of and no outside-the-home job) so I guess I turned inward and let myself go for a bit.  I guess you could call it "self-preservation" because I took care of myself psychologically and emotionally, just not physically.  When I really think about it, I realize that I just didn't have the energy for all of it.  Something had to give and what gave was the physical care I had been, up to then, so good at giving myself.  In the past few months, Shannon and I have been able to find our way back to taking care of ourselves and each other in every way possible: more running, more walks with Cleo the Dog, more enjoyment of the little things.  I guess I have to remember that the time post-marathon was exercise of a different sort: trying to figure out how to put our lives back together after such a tragedy.  

Given everything that's gone on, I should probably cut myself some slack and be grateful that I can still get out and go for a run (despite having to walk every now and then.).