At this point, running-wise, I want a redo on the entire stupid month of July. I haven't had a good run since June. In four weeks of new and staggering running lows, I managed to hit a new one today: not even being able to make through a mile.
Objectively, I know there are reasons for this. I've drunk too much alcohol and not enough water lately. It was humid. I was running on a gravel trail for the first time and the soft impact didn't do much for my legs. But after awhile, all this just feels like excuses. Maybe it's time to own to the fact that I'm not all that good at this. Maybe 3 miles is my threshold and maybe that can only be attained on certain magical days of the year.
I'm not asking unreasonable things from my body, I don't think. I know I'm not ever going to run a 10 minute mile. I know I'm not ever going to run a marathon. But after a stretch of successful 3 mile runs, it doesn't seem too be so much to want to be able to go for 3.5. Apparently it is. At this rate, there's no way I'm going to be able to run a 10K in October.
Yesterday was a bit of a rough day and Kristen suggested that a run might make me feel better. But my body isn't responding in the way I need it to, and that's only making my mind worse. Failure doesn't release endorphins.
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