Today is my long run day, but I did not run.  I am sure, during the training period that there will be many days where something is scheduled and does not happen.  Some of the time I will be able to anticipate it.  Some of the time I won’t.  It has taken a long time for me to be OK with this.

In the beginning I was on target, whatever the sacrifice.  Of course, at that point I lived alone. I wasn’t dating anyone seriously. I had no one to answer to but my thesis advisor and my cat, who frankly wanted me out of bed as early as possible so she could squeeze in some good nap time.  But of course, things still came up.  Ahem, an appendix rupture for example.

These days, I must admit, I find trainers who tell you to schedule the work out time and make it sacrosanct frustrating at best, implacable at worst.  It’s not that I disagree about setting the workout time as a priority, but I disagree with the idea that you must be unyielding. Because let’s face it, the great current that we sometimes swim against is immutable.   If you choose to swim against it too long you end up too exhausted to enjoy anything.  And, bonus, if you are someone who tends toward the obsessive end of the scale, you get to experience that failure on a altogether different level.

I’m not saying that everything should just flow along.  But, when facing a day full of errands, missed naps, new school year prep, and sick animals, it’s OK to let that long run wait.  Especially if it is something you want to enjoy, not just check off your list.


More Reasons

Thanks for yesterday.  That last little bit of information just bubbled up.  I don’t know about you, but sometimes I will think that I’ve gotten passed something only to discover, randomly, that I really haven’t.  But whatever deep-seated reasons I might have for setting my feet on this path, I have others that are a little less hidden.

I have a preschooler.  I want to be able to keep up with her as she gets older.   I want to set a good example for her.  I want her to know her mom is fit and takes care of herself.

But she isn’t the only reason I’m doing this.  I am also a reason to do this.  The average American woman lives to be 80.6 years old.  At 34, I’m not quite at my midpoint, but I am approaching it.  And I’m telling you, I have no desire to spend the last half of my life struggling with the same issue that has all but defined the first half.  I know that maintenance of weight loss can be just as difficult as the weight loss itself.   But it is a different challenge.  I look forward to it.