week 2: check?

I debated whether or not to write this entry as I knew I’d be doing so with my tail planted firmly between my legs. I had a tough week, and the good little voice in my head told me I should share it with my readers. Full disclosure, that’s what they want. The evil little voice in my head said “you don’t need to write about this. Just don’t, skip a week. They’ll never know you faltered and the image of you as a go get ’em kind of gal will be preserved.” The good little voice won. I’m not writing a blog to discuss how fabulous and perfect I am. So, here I am in week 2 of Running to Tahiti, and I pretty much got a big fat “F.” I hope this doesn’t completely discredit me as whatever source of inspiration I may have been. Two points for honesty.

First, allow me the indulgence of making excuses. Last week, my whirlwind of a brother came to visit all the way from New York City (New York City!?), and anyone who knows Matthew knows that he requires time and attention. He’s like a Malamute. Kind and loyal, but if you don’t pay him enough attention, he’ll lash out and pee on your rug.

Matthew

I WANTED to spend time with him, of course. I don’t get to see him but a couple of times a year and I really love the guy. Spending time with him felt more important than going for a run. Is that so wrong? So there was that, brother time. Secondly, I had one of many events to attend at Theatre of NOTE. This one being a staged reading in a series at NOTE called NOTEworthy. Thankfully it was a great play, so the evening wasn’t wasted, but again, no time to run!

Thirdly, Matthew and I drove up to Sacramento on Thursday night to be respondents for the resurrection of the Lenaea festival, now known as the Bob Smart Theatre Festival. I knew heading into the week I wouldn’t be able to run on Thursday, however I had every intention of running Monday-Wednesday. Didn’t happen. The Malamute and the theatre took up all of my time. So there I was on Thursday night, fully aware that I would need to run 6 miles every day for the next three days to make it even close to my goal. I really dug myself into a hole and that kind of pressure, frankly, sucks.

So those are the excuses. Wah wah wah. Now onto some positives. I didn’t throw in the proverbial towel. I ran 4 miles on Friday and 6 miles on Sunday. I literally could not peel myself out of bed on Saturday and once I did, Matthew and I were running late to the festival so I had to run out the door. Whoops, I slipped in another excuse there. The long and the short of it is, I ran 10 miles last week. That’s 1/2 of my 20 mile goal. If I keep this up we’re not going to to make it to Tahiti until 2014! I grossly underestimated how hard it would be to stick to 20 miles a week with my crazy schedule. This is truly a rude awakening.

To add insult to injury and further diminish your possible superhero opinion of me, this week has not been any better. I have had more meetings and more Malamute time every day this week. I don’t get to bed until midnight and with my melatonin levels that means I’m not out of bed until 8:30 which leaves no morning run time. With the myriad of nightly meetings, events, and work in between, how am I going to do this? Well, I’m not going to give up. That I know. I need to make a plan. If I have meetings at night and work during the day I see only one option. I HAVE to make morning runs my style. If not, we’ll only make it as far as Torrance instead of Tahiti. The only productive time in the day is the time you carve out of it. I’ve got no time at night or midday so I’ll have to carve a bit earlier. It’s going to hurt. I’m a devout lover of sleep, but I have to do this. If Oprah can do it I can do it. Starting tomorrow I’m a morning runner. Wish me well. Now please excuse me while I go take a nap.

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3 thoughts on “week 2: check?

  1. Mornings. Ugh. I’m already up at 6:45 every morning and it’s painful, but I have the same (busy life) issues you do and one of these days I know that if I intend to do yoga more frequently than once a week I’ll have to get up at (eep!) 6am. It hurts just to type that…

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