Three Miles/Three Donuts (Calories Out/Calories In?)

On Tuesday, I was cleared to run three miles the next day. Laying in bed that night I tossed and turned like it was a third job. I thought to myself, "It's like I'm waiting for Christmas morning." When the alarm jarred me awake I did not quite hop out of bed but I made it to my feet and got dressed. Running shorts, sports bra, super-bright tshirt for protection from cars. I unwrapped my shiny new shoes from their packaging and jump-started my fresh start. Well, I'm not quite sure "jump-start" is the correct terminology as I ambled down the road at a brisk walk to get things movin' and groovin'.

We started on a downhill. When my legs started moving it was like a rush of relief flooding my body - the frustration of the past week shedding itself little by little. I was on high-alert, hyper-aware of every ache and pain as we moved silently in the dark. The morning seemed strangely quiet, my voice bouncing lightly off the asphalt. I concentrated on each step and tried to apply everything I have learned about proper form and mid-foot striking and the lean and where my arms should be. It was more work than I wanted 3 miles to be but it always is when your attention is so focused on the body and its movable parts. My anger at the situation flared up again as we pulled into the driveway and my run was over.

I've been tackling a whole new (yet old constant) issue of ignoring the compulsion to compare myself and my training to the work everyone is putting in around me. After the marathon, I allowed my competitive edge back in. Like an old friend, it was on my couch and in my heart before I even realized it. Being a competitor - wanting to win - willing myself onwards fast fast faster is something I had been lacking for years. I'm not sure when or why I got that drive back but it settled itself right back into my running. As inspiration, being competitive is a boon - as basis for ruthless comparison, it is a bust. This new injury has thrust the whole thing into the spotlight, front and center. Perhaps it is best now to learn where to set the limits on healthy competition. It is such a beautiful thing to push oneself as hard as humanly possible to keep up with a training partner on a tough day - knowing on somedays it will be the other way around, keeping you both in check. Beads of sweat clinging to our eyelashes and pollen staining our lungs... these are the things I miss enjoying with other runners. It is not recording the miles in my log or hitting specific splits or racing that I long for. Sure, all of that is part of it. But the raw, tangible feeling of breath racing through my lungs and muscles on fire for the sake of burning... that is what I truly cherish in the miles. I can be envious of others for enjoying that aspect of running, but I need not covet the mileage itself.