The Honeymoon Period
This is about the time it takes before I start to have doubts. A month or two. The honeymoon period with my new "routine" slowly wanes. Getting into a new exercise routine with a new sport is like falling in love, but with a dominatrix that punishes your muscle fibers. 3-5 times a week. It's great, at first, trying new things and all, but you eventually get tired of the weird, and constant pain you have to subject yourself to for the experience.
Today was the first day where I really felt this drop in motivation to get out. It's a rest day, but I'm mildly dreading tomorrow, and the following two days, where I know I will be putting down miles in the rain. I've been riding a high of "I can do this" for a month. And I have been doing it. I ran a 10k+ (6.6m) 8 days ago, and then ran a 7 mile last weekend at a pace one minute per mile faster than my 10k+.
It's at this point where reality sets in and where my expectations and experience don't match up, if I am not careful. I started to feel defeated despite having pushed myself harder successfully. Of course, my mind loves to go down the dark road. Always has. It's who I am, and I don't like it. My life is objectively great overall, not to brag, more to recognize that it is. To be actively grateful for it, and not take it for granted. My brain just always wants more. More more more. And it wants running to get easier, even though there is no easier, just faster, further, and more vertical.
I should be proud of myself though. If I don't allow myself some modicum of personal pride, I am going to slip into ingrate mode, and depression will swallow my motivation up like a black hole. This pride doesn't mean I think I am better than anyone, just better off than I used to be. (I don't believe in people being better than other people, as far as social status or morality, based on simple physical accomplishment.) But I need to see the good in what I am doing, for myself. Running is self-love, and remembering my successes is doubly so.
In one month, following an essentially cardio-free stretch of my life that lasted nearly a year, I popped off the couch and ran not just 10 k, but two 10K+ distances. My 3.6 mile loop around home that I walked major sections of on my first runs a month ago? I ran the whole way, minus stopping shortly at crosswalks, stoplights, and once to check my ankle. And that was on my 3rd day of running for the week, on a run that brought me to 10+ miles in those 3 days. I can -run- a 5k. I can run most of a 10k. I'm starting to see sub-10 miles. Not only that, my scale read 219.6 the other morning. A month ago, I was just shy of 230, the heaviest I have ever been.
But it's still tough. Some days, no matter how good things are, all I want to do is lay in bed. No passion for the things I love, no motivation to get after them. Life stress is part of it, but there's definitely something else going on. What does help though, is climbing over that giant mental brick wall in spite of the gnawing boredom and hopelessness. This is harder than any of the physical activity that I've done, but it is pivotal and important to do so. I suppose motivation for me, in that sense, is like a spacecraft dealing with a gravity-well. Some days, it's as easy as jumping off a small meteor. One push and I am gone. Other days, I am circling an event horizon of a black hole, wondering if I am about to be atomized. But if I can achieve escape velocity, and get moving, nine times out of ten, I am better for it. Sometimes, I am just not. I have to be honest. The whole process sucks. But. I have to keep climbing for the other nine times it does work, else, like with running or anything else, I lose the ability to do so. The wall will get in the way more, and I will have a tougher time climbing over it.
I know I am not the only person out there who deals with these feelings. Everyone has their highs and lows to some extent. Some of us have them to quite the extreme. And I am not writing this for pity, and please, don't pity me for any of this. This is just my life, and writing about it, and sharing it helps me. The idea that it might give someone else some semblance of camaraderie one day helps me. The fact that just getting it out in the concrete instead of just sitting in my head, spinning my wheels, helps me.
When it comes down to it, I need to meter my expectations, which run wild on me. I need to reign them in. I need to be grateful for the fact that I can run seven miles. It seems pitiful, especially when people can run 100. When people can run insane things like the Barkley. But I think I said it before; Comparison is often where hope and motivation go to die. So I will be damn grateful for the fact that I can put down a 7 mile run now, and that I even have the time and ability to run in the first place. And that is enough.
In life, the simple things should be enough. When I step back, shove my ego to the side, just performing the basics should be enough. The idea of winning races, smashing goals, meeting goals etc... who cares, ultimately? Maybe those can motivate my 'self', but at the end of the day, just existing, being mobile, taking care of my body, eating good food, should be more than enough.
Maybe I'm injecting too much buddhism into running, but there is a lot to be said for being content while suffering through a long run. Suffering is the default state for us anyway, and despite our distractions, via goals, products, wins, beers, etc, we are always looking for the next thing, the next attainment, the next whatever. I'm not saying we shouldn't. I'm not saying I don't want to try to run further and further until I can run no further. But that maybe instead of getting caught up in the race, to just let running be what it is. Let running be self care, much like showering, eating, and cleaning, and whatever comes of it, comes of it. And maybe it isn't running, but hiking, biking, kayaking, ski touring, whatever... there is something to be said for being simply engaged in physical activity for the sake of activity itself that is pivotal to being human. It's hard-coded in our program, and we need to be making use of that essential way of being. We're not chasing wild game across the plains anymore, despite being very much biologic siblings with our ancient ancestors, so we need to do something to take care of that fundamental need to move.
Personally, I can revel in successes, but that exists above just being content in being on the road, or on the trail, putting one foot in front of the other. Really, all that times of rest seem to be are a break between strides. I just need to be careful that I don't lose the motivation to stand back up and to keep moving. Like a wiser person once said long before I was born. It is the journey, not the destination, that matters. So I am going to enjoy the process, all its ups and downs, good days and not so good days, and whatever the process brings me, it brings me, end of the honeymoon period be damned.
Today was the first day where I really felt this drop in motivation to get out. It's a rest day, but I'm mildly dreading tomorrow, and the following two days, where I know I will be putting down miles in the rain. I've been riding a high of "I can do this" for a month. And I have been doing it. I ran a 10k+ (6.6m) 8 days ago, and then ran a 7 mile last weekend at a pace one minute per mile faster than my 10k+.
It's at this point where reality sets in and where my expectations and experience don't match up, if I am not careful. I started to feel defeated despite having pushed myself harder successfully. Of course, my mind loves to go down the dark road. Always has. It's who I am, and I don't like it. My life is objectively great overall, not to brag, more to recognize that it is. To be actively grateful for it, and not take it for granted. My brain just always wants more. More more more. And it wants running to get easier, even though there is no easier, just faster, further, and more vertical.
I should be proud of myself though. If I don't allow myself some modicum of personal pride, I am going to slip into ingrate mode, and depression will swallow my motivation up like a black hole. This pride doesn't mean I think I am better than anyone, just better off than I used to be. (I don't believe in people being better than other people, as far as social status or morality, based on simple physical accomplishment.) But I need to see the good in what I am doing, for myself. Running is self-love, and remembering my successes is doubly so.
In one month, following an essentially cardio-free stretch of my life that lasted nearly a year, I popped off the couch and ran not just 10 k, but two 10K+ distances. My 3.6 mile loop around home that I walked major sections of on my first runs a month ago? I ran the whole way, minus stopping shortly at crosswalks, stoplights, and once to check my ankle. And that was on my 3rd day of running for the week, on a run that brought me to 10+ miles in those 3 days. I can -run- a 5k. I can run most of a 10k. I'm starting to see sub-10 miles. Not only that, my scale read 219.6 the other morning. A month ago, I was just shy of 230, the heaviest I have ever been.
But it's still tough. Some days, no matter how good things are, all I want to do is lay in bed. No passion for the things I love, no motivation to get after them. Life stress is part of it, but there's definitely something else going on. What does help though, is climbing over that giant mental brick wall in spite of the gnawing boredom and hopelessness. This is harder than any of the physical activity that I've done, but it is pivotal and important to do so. I suppose motivation for me, in that sense, is like a spacecraft dealing with a gravity-well. Some days, it's as easy as jumping off a small meteor. One push and I am gone. Other days, I am circling an event horizon of a black hole, wondering if I am about to be atomized. But if I can achieve escape velocity, and get moving, nine times out of ten, I am better for it. Sometimes, I am just not. I have to be honest. The whole process sucks. But. I have to keep climbing for the other nine times it does work, else, like with running or anything else, I lose the ability to do so. The wall will get in the way more, and I will have a tougher time climbing over it.
I know I am not the only person out there who deals with these feelings. Everyone has their highs and lows to some extent. Some of us have them to quite the extreme. And I am not writing this for pity, and please, don't pity me for any of this. This is just my life, and writing about it, and sharing it helps me. The idea that it might give someone else some semblance of camaraderie one day helps me. The fact that just getting it out in the concrete instead of just sitting in my head, spinning my wheels, helps me.
When it comes down to it, I need to meter my expectations, which run wild on me. I need to reign them in. I need to be grateful for the fact that I can run seven miles. It seems pitiful, especially when people can run 100. When people can run insane things like the Barkley. But I think I said it before; Comparison is often where hope and motivation go to die. So I will be damn grateful for the fact that I can put down a 7 mile run now, and that I even have the time and ability to run in the first place. And that is enough.
In life, the simple things should be enough. When I step back, shove my ego to the side, just performing the basics should be enough. The idea of winning races, smashing goals, meeting goals etc... who cares, ultimately? Maybe those can motivate my 'self', but at the end of the day, just existing, being mobile, taking care of my body, eating good food, should be more than enough.
Maybe I'm injecting too much buddhism into running, but there is a lot to be said for being content while suffering through a long run. Suffering is the default state for us anyway, and despite our distractions, via goals, products, wins, beers, etc, we are always looking for the next thing, the next attainment, the next whatever. I'm not saying we shouldn't. I'm not saying I don't want to try to run further and further until I can run no further. But that maybe instead of getting caught up in the race, to just let running be what it is. Let running be self care, much like showering, eating, and cleaning, and whatever comes of it, comes of it. And maybe it isn't running, but hiking, biking, kayaking, ski touring, whatever... there is something to be said for being simply engaged in physical activity for the sake of activity itself that is pivotal to being human. It's hard-coded in our program, and we need to be making use of that essential way of being. We're not chasing wild game across the plains anymore, despite being very much biologic siblings with our ancient ancestors, so we need to do something to take care of that fundamental need to move.
Personally, I can revel in successes, but that exists above just being content in being on the road, or on the trail, putting one foot in front of the other. Really, all that times of rest seem to be are a break between strides. I just need to be careful that I don't lose the motivation to stand back up and to keep moving. Like a wiser person once said long before I was born. It is the journey, not the destination, that matters. So I am going to enjoy the process, all its ups and downs, good days and not so good days, and whatever the process brings me, it brings me, end of the honeymoon period be damned.
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