For the life of me, I cannot figure out what the problem is. I simply have no desire to run, whatsoever. I've tried forcing myself and it's of no use. At the current time, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I don't know exactly what happened, or when. I don't know if I did this to myself. I know that in the midst of some tough times lately, I've settled into a form of a bad rut that I cannot get myself out of.
The weight I've gained is almost unbelievable, even to me. The set backs I've had are becoming more and more numerous. I'm disgusted with myself more and more.
I'm far too humiliated to reach out to my running pals, ones I once went so many miles with and even mentored. While I have some confidence they'd be supportive, kind and motivating, I'm not ready to face them until I'm on my way back up. I know everyone in the world will tell me that it's friends and people who can help me get back to an acceptable level, but I know myself well enough to know that if I had friends pushing and pulling me up the hill I don't want to go, then I'd be filled with resentment and it might push me further into the gutter. So until I wean off this humiliation stance I'm in, I'm not reaching out much. I'm not quite ready for that, but I know in time, it will be welcomed and needed.
Just last night I had a dream about a mud run I was doing with my husband, my sister and my brother. My husband started late, my sister and brother [ both who have started running/walk-running in real life] were just ahead of me when we started. I turned a corner and I watched a group of cheerleaders in pristine clean cheer outfits carry an injured cheerleader off the course. My siblings were finishing the course. Running was impossible for me and at the very first corner, my siblings and my husband were done, and waiting in someones apartment. I said forget it, and went to the apartment where my sister gave me my medal and my shirt. I hadn't even gone 1/10th of a mile and they had finished.
That pretty well sums up my mental level these days. Sadly, that feels so much like reality that it scares me. [ well except the mud run...I don't like dirty. And my husband running. He'd be on the side drinking Pepsi and smoking] I see everyone running ahead of me and even if I tried to catch up, I couldn't and at some point, I just don't care anymore.
I'm done forcing myself to do this. Maybe my runner days are over. Maybe I did what I was supposed to do and that was it. Maybe those were my glory days and it just simply- no pun intended- ran it's course.
So why do I feel so damn guilty?! Why do I feel incredibly disappointed in myself?! Why do I feel like the world's laziest fool?!
I have two more runs I've already scheduled, Bay to Breakers and a Foam Fest in August [ yeah, me- doesn't like dirty OR heat, will embark on both in one day. oy] Both of these, if I actually do them, will be walked. While it might not shed any guilt or lame, no aim feeling, at least it's something, I suppose.
What gives me hope and encouragement is my big brother, who is so incredibly eager and interested in doing these 'races' and walking them only. That I can do. I think.
And the depressing part of all this....My sister started running long after I did. She soared. She's done awesome times, putting me to shame. I'm so proud of her! I feel terrible for not continuing this with her. I want to support her all the way, but in my heart and soul, right now, I just can't do it.
Call it depression, call it peri-menopause, call it laziness, call it stupidity....I don't have a clue. I'm fighting my way back and up to a level I can stand myself and while it might take a really long time, anything is better than this.
So here's to looking to better times....
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