It Pours

Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 27


Planned run:  Training Schedule 14 miles (in my head?  Maybe 5?)
Actual run:  0


Last week was rough.

Thursday, I finally did some dedicated reading on Overtraining Syndrome. I checked off headaches, stomach upset, irritability,  and insomnia. When I read about the "compulsion to train",  I laughed until I cried. Literally. Not a good day.



Last night I went to sleep telling myself a bedtime story that went something like this. I'd get up in the morning, put on my running gear and run.  Just 5 miles.  If I felt great, 7.  If I felt really great, I'd go the 14.

Here's reality:  I woke every hour or two and flexed my right ankle, feeling the pull on my Achilles tendon.  (I've been participating in this insomniac stretch for weeks.)  When I finally turned to look at my alarm clock at 7:30 and stepped onto the floor I felt my heels protest.  Ouch.   

I can't run today.  My feet can't take the pounding of the pavement.

Now it's raining.  In the last couple of days, I've watched a bazillion episodes of LA Ink and I've about decided which tattoo I'll get.  (The last sentence is to see if my kids are paying attention.  Ha!)  I've also watched 3 episodes of Christmas at South Park.  I'm trying not to be bored and I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself.

I've also been trying not to think of those little kids and teachers who were gunned down in Connecticut.  But how can I not?  As I type this I think the best thing is for me TO think of them, to get out of my self-involved little world for as long as it takes today. There is no reason, no cause, no errand, no duty more pressing than for me to simply sit quietly with no music, no books, no light, no sound other than the raindrops hitting my window and to think of those humans who lived, who laughed, who breathed, who ran, who played, who smiled.  Today I'll be quiet and I'll honor them.  And I'll cry.  




©Michelle Scofield, Dec. 16, 2012 All Rights Reserved