Ever since I began running (the first time, back in high school), I’ve struggled with the terrible power of inertia. It is my most destructive enemy. Injury, although annoying, hasn’t been a problem. Finding time has been tricky, but I always come back to running as soon as I can. What really stops me in my tracks is when I take more than two days off. Motivation: shot. Interest: nil. Butt: spreading.
It’s like my bed becomes a sticky, very very sticky, place until just before I need to go to work. And then, somehow, I’m 10 times more tired when I get home from work than I ever was before. So you see? I cannot run! It’s not possible.
And that’s what happened this week. A whole week off. Oh, I had excuses, sure. Visiting family (like they would say, “please! Don’t run!”), and then a little fun with a biopsy (OK, that *did* hurt, but it shouldn’t have been more than two days off, tops). Plus, you know, the sticky bed. Oh, and my new iPod touch, I really wanted to use it, but I couldn’t find the armband, so…well…you know?
But, erm, I spent this whole week insisting that my son, who is just a little younger than I when I started running, show up for every optional cross country summer practice this week. “You’ll feel better if you succeed!” I told him. “You’ll earn more respect, feel better about yourself, plus you’ll even get stronger.” Somehow, the gobsmacking irony of this didn’t hit me until this morning, on the run I finally took. What I need, clearly, is a mean mom to get me out of bed early and in my gear and OUT THE DAMN DOOR.
I don’t have that, but I’m kind of hoping my running noob son will continue to show me up in the consistency department and thereby motivate me to NOT take two days off in a row in the future.
