My husband once proclaimed that I am un-coachable, and he may be right. I tend to see training plans and coach’s advice as just that: plans but not realities, advice but not wisdom. I’m famous in our little family for leaving for a run with no concrete plans on the distance or route; I like to see where my mood and the scenery and the music take me. Or sometimes, not run at all, and go to yoga instead. Maybe. If I feel like it.
I justified this because I used to be a high school teacher. Running was a release and not yet another challenge. On days when I ran, it felt like it was the only part of my day where I was free of scrutiny, of external pressure. I could do what I wanted, for however long I wanted, while listening to what I wanted, with no one to answer to except for myself. So I put little to no pressure on my running, and only ran when I was internally motivated to go out for a run. This was a blast, and it even worked pretty well through my mid-30s, but now that I’m no longer a teacher and living in a new decade, it appears that things will need to change.
I recently stumbled into a CIM entry for this coming December, and now I’m facing a blank training calendar and joints that crinkle and crackle and heel pads that grumble in the mornings. The sector in my stomach that was reserved for gu packets and nut butters is now supplanted by cider and tortillas.
So, train I shall, and document it here I will. Today included hot yoga with Ron, an inspiring friend I’ve known since my most un-coachable of days, and tomorrow will consist of a morning run before a day full of other diversions…one of which will most certainly be cider.
