“When I was young I thought I knew everything”
Consistently running, out of the Lydiard school. Long slow distance was my sense of being. When I ran faster, I got more frustrated. I’d rather be slow and smooth. No reason to compete with something that would cost me those solid 90 minutes of play and cleansing in the early morning dew.
“For the life of me, I cannot remember, what made us think we were wise and never compromise”
I continued to train, absent rest, absent recovery. It worked. Nothing broke down. The wheels never came off, and I was happy as a clam. I wasn’t getting better, but I was happy in this warm little cocoon of training everyday, sometimes even twice. Then I found my first round with ITBs. I then realized running demands much of the body and the mind. Particularly, marathon training.
Then was the XC endeavor, which taught me all about speed and recovery I could have hoped to know. I tore a quarter of the largest muscle in the human anatomy. So I at that point began to wonder if XC was really worth it. Riding a triathlon bike in a sea of cross country runners is an obnoxious feeling if it is anything at all. Witness my feeling of uncertainty.
“I can’t be held responsible”
If I could take one thing from running, it would be the feeling of completion. I have an addictive personality. Partly genetic, party my own free will. When I want something, I work like a dog, at achieving it, stopping at nothing - Almost as if I’m programmed to obtain it, or break down trying. There is a line to my objectives, and it rarely includes reasoning or logic. Kind of scares me sometimes.
In any case, what I now know is this crash is not something I want to remember. But every morning, I wake up with the same sharp memory, which I largely cannot control. I need to heal, and my training needs to change.
