SAS

What do you do with the days where you realize how far the road ahead of you really is?

Those very specific days of enlightenment where the headway you thought you had been making not only comes to a halt, but also crashes down and bursts into flames. I call it darkening enlightenment...

While my runs have been nothing spectacular anyways, I have been thinking "consistency is key" and I was proud of the fact that I had been running regularly! In fact, I was beginning to think I was getting back in the groove of things.

So I decided to take my groove and head over to Lifetime Fitness to work with a friend I had over there. My goal was to get my body ready for the kinds of intense tests and trials I was hoping to put it through in the upcoming years. In order to prepare and survive I knew I would need strength and power. Runners and athletes do not become great by doing just one thing. They cover all of the bases, shoot every shot, practice every move, and prepare every step. I have tried to help build my body into a machine before and I got pretty far, but this time around I was failing spectacularly. But I was still running and working hard on those runs. I was more worried about injury and prevention. My IT Band was acting up again...

Thus the goal was strength, but that hour I spent at the gym was more about realizing what I didn't have instead. I used to be able to hold a plank for 45 seconds, rest, and then do it a few more times. Not incredible before, but a big deal for me. (SAS aka Skinny Arms Syndrome) So when my friend suggested we start with planks I thought nothing of it. Little did I realize that soon my face would be red, cheeks puffed, and arms tormented. No, t'was not the trainer throwing me into boot camp, merely my own insufferable denial giving me more weight than I could take. I gutted my way through the first 45 seconds and then had to do the second try at 45 seconds broken up into 10 second on/off intervals. Wowzer. I knew I should have worn my shades in the gym, at least then I would have looked crazy enough for people to dismiss my poor physique and struggle bus lift techniques.

See, runners can not just run anymore. To compete, a runner has to stregthen every part of their body in order to beat out the competition by milliseconds. To compete with the best, a runner like me has to push her normal limits of conditioning every day just so I don't get lapped twice in a race with the American greats. Those amazing women out there are spending hours a day preparing themselves for the same tests, trials, and workouts that I wanted to go through. My thought was that I would be able to do what those women do for core, strength, and power along the way to competing with them and it would be just another part of the road I was on. A short, easy part. False. This road was getting longer with every step I took along it.

So, as I was watching my world, my hopes, and my dreams come pouring out of my sweat glands and catch aflame I figured that everyone in the gym was witnessing my epic meltdown. That is, until I watched a tall skinny blonde walk by me in nothing but booty shorts and sports bra talking on her cell phone (in the middle of the weight room...) Feeling slightly overdressed, I looked up from my lunge and noticed quite a few scantily clad and had a second enlightenment of the day. No one noticed the akward tall girl in the back lifting her 5 pounds over her head and wondering where the time went. Plus, no one knew the kind of power my lungs had or the miles my legs had crossed. While my butt may still be destroyed by twelve year old kids, barbie blondes, and mid-life crisis men in the gym, I still have some kick in me and can make a race more painful than most people would like it to be.  

What do I do with those days of enlightenment?

I pick up my pieces, gather the ruble, and resume building atop the ruins.

With one of my arms beating me down and the other picking me up, I am not really moving backwards. I just need something to help sway the balance towards improvement. (I think I can get my legs to join the cause) Plus SAS means they aren't beating me down that far...

Love the road, long and far