Run #15: It's Not You, It's Me

A little chocolate sounds good...and they do say it fills an emotional void.

I'm trying to find the right way to approach this - the best way to tell "running" that this really isn't working out - that we're going to have to break it off.  It's no good for me; we're just not *right* for each other.  Incompatible.  Irreconcilable differences.  A bad match.

No matter what her intentions, all she seems to do is hurt me.  I keep giving her *one* more chance, and things always look great for those first five, maybe even six minutes.  But then she returns to her old ways - stabbing me in the back, crushing me, breaking my heart.  Every.  Stinking.  Time.

If only the whole time could be like that "honeymoon" of a first half mile, before the pain sets in.  But no.  By half way through, I am ready to hit STOP.  But I don't.  Then I just spend the rest of the time fighting my own psyche.  That can't be healthy.

Tonight, I managed to get to the gym by about 8:45pm.  Didn't make any difference (except I get to go to bed at a decent hour tonight, for a change).

The running music:
1) What's This Life For - Creed
2) My Sacrifice - Creed
3) Heavy - Collective Soul
4) No More, No Less - Collective Soul
5) Needs - Collective Soul
6) Yellow - Cold Play (well, I didn't QUITE make it to this song)

My goal was to run at 6.2 mph for 22 minutes.  I made it to 21:31 and 2.20 miles.  Tried running at 6.2 mph the whole way, but at 17:30 I just couldn't take it any more.  I figured, "what am I trying to prove, and to whom?"  I slowed down for a bit, then sped back up, and was all over the place for the rest of the time, trying to make it time out correctly so I'd at least tie the last run's stats.  Well, I was close: missed it by ten seconds.  Good enough.

Now I'm trying to figure out what to do on Wednesday, because tonight sucked.  At one mile, my lower back was already hurting.  Maybe I'll try running slower; but that will also mean running *longer* - which does not sound good.

But the speed tonight became onerous!  I looked across the room at the mirror, and I did not *look* like I was running all that fast, but I *felt* like I was Lucy trying to keep up with the chocolates on the conveyor belt.  Only it wasn't for just a few moments of a silly scene, it was for 22 minutes of agony, which is practically the length of the whole I Love Lucy episode (commercials removed).  Nuts, I say.

I only have 7.5 weeks until the Thanksgiving 5k.  I really, REALLY do not think I am ever going to reach my goal of 3.1 miles in 30:00 minutes.  And I do *not* look forward to trying.  Thankfully, I only run every two days, which is *just* enough time to partially forget the misery, and actually step up on that treadmill with the futile hope that it will be somehow better next time.

Foolish, I know.  Come Turkey Day, I am leaving running in the dust and finding me a new love.  Cuz this ain't love - it's insanity.