Lately the only power I could find was labels of extreme colored drinks I really hate to drink anyways.
Still coughing every 5 minutes, I suppose being sick does not help running towards my goal but I have no time to take any days off. Berlin knocking in my door, and I already took way too much time off.
Main drive to run anyways has been to get into crews and push it through together. Always failed, or at least did not feel good. Too much for the character, one gotta get herself together for the people gathering to be a team to train. Part of having anxiety attacks I suppose; everyone has a thought how others think they do or should do, and therefore trying to live up to these standards. Or at least try to avoid so much that all power focusing on this rather than the run itself.
I still preferred group runs to solo ones, the athmosphere make it up to a social personality way too much more. On the other hand thoughts developing in myself throughout these runs give the definite lead of way to not believing in myself anymore. I’m not capable, I actually suck, i’m a whiner; sentences realized in myself. And at the same time I felt great to be around with them. Only running was not working out as planned.
Had a race over the weekend. I still had to go to a party with the running buddies previous night, because this is how I trick my own mind. I feel good with them, they like my company, race is just a race, and in fact many of us attended the next day, so why should I not join them anyways. We had great fun, even greater amount to drink and continious smoking. Got home at a normal hour comparing to party-mode, but way too late as for a serious race attender. Overslept, and rushed to dress up in anything I could find to at least make it to the startline on time. Still dizzy, still poisoned from too much intake of everything. And no surprise I could not pick up the tempo, I kept running with no interest other than finishing. Still kept the good spirit shown to the outside world, was one big smile and social as usual. Inside, I cried. I knew this is not my pace, and not my real face.
Getting second place helped not to except my state of being, in fact made it worse. Perfectionism with added zero self-esteem lead to total closing up for the rest of the day just to realize I’ve been closed for some months now.
Sunday continued with equally low mood, and only a sudden urge to go run made it change. I had no proper gear, just the usual training gear, but no socks, no watch, no fuel nor water. I had no plan either how much to run, but secretly was hoping to accomplish my long run before Berlin. I had my fear instead, a lot of fear, so tried to ease my mind to run as much as I want in a pace still feels good and not care about the rest. It wasn’t easy, nor hard. It went on. And whenever I started to loose interest and thought of giving up I told myself if I could go this far, I should better keep on going. Noone knows if I could run this far in any other day.
I was probably over 30km, almost done when a biker turned around when passing me. He said hi, and I said hi. He looked at me surprised and asked shockingly if I didn’t recognise him. I did not. I told him, and started to be a bit worried, I was alone on the road – as a comparison I started running when the route was still packed with fellow trainers – the lights were not yet on although the sun had set already. I questioned my own well-being in terms of deciding to run that far, alone. He kept cycling next to me, and I could not help but start feeling extremely nervous, I knew I could not pick up the tempo, I had no backup, I didn’t even had one sip of water throughout the run, I made it through in 2 coffees I had during the day previously and some bites of ruccola salad and limonade. I turned to him and I said: I’m sorry I’m really pushing here and don’t need a company. He said nothing but kept biking next to me for a while, but than he finally gave up. I was done five minutes later.
He probably didn’t mean to do anything bad to me, in fact he might got to know me as an outgoing person. I was not one yesterday. Yestermonth. For a while now.
I stopped and checked my workout on my phone. 31.8 km 4:49 pace. 2:30 hrs of run. I did it.
Nowhere near marathonpace, and I felt tired, blisters on my foot although I haven’t had those for months, calves burning. But I did it. Finally I proved something to myself, and I calmed down a bit.
And this is how I shout: Berlin here I come.