Goose egg. Worked a 12hr day, which provided ample opportunity for active recovery. I feel that a run would have done little more than feed my pride. Dodgeball, tag, swimming, and leading water aerobics was probably the best thing I could have done for my legs. After a post by my pal P, I was reminded that our legs and our hearts carry us safely through adventures, not our egos. I have to be kind to my body to balance out the abuse, even if my body's being very passive aggressive currently and not retaliating. My plan is to stay healthy into middle age, then go out in an infamous drug-and-hooker-fueled blaze of glory, so I have to be kind to myself in these 20-something years.
(I use the term "pal" with regard to Pat without his written consent. We've never met, but raced once and read each other's blogs)
9 miles - My best guestimating at work here. 2 miles to the top secret 3k loop meeting spot, where I arrived just in time...to realize I was late. The plan was to rest anyway, but be social and see the group do their workout. Did a 1k rep with part of the club, and did their cooldown with them. Jogged back home. Despite the convoluted nature of the run, it was exactly what I needed. Easy 80 min jog with some quick turnover in there. A consistent, balanced, conservative plan lurks beneath this blonde-ish afro. Better stick to it.
6 miles - Flat, slow, mellow night jog around town Between the two jobs, I worked 12 hours and used up my daylight. Got a chance to take my Asics Piranhas for a spin. Pretty nice, but kind of clunky. A little break-in time will tell. Since my long run Sunday, my legs have been a bit achy. Since this week a planned easy week, I'll just jog lightly and gear my brain to enjoy the dull ache. I know it sounds like fake douche baggery, but it kind of feels good. 12 hours of work and an easy jog. It's kind of the inverse of what a good day looks like. As we ultrarunners say about damn near anything that's even mildly strenuous: "good ultra training."
...and life threw a big fat shit-covered curveball.
I had to fly home. Sam's uncle was recently diagnosed with cancer, and passed away Wednesday at age 42. We flew home Thursday, had the funeral Friday, visited with family Saturday, and Flew home Sunday. The only run I was able to squeeze in was a 7 miler on Saturday. Temps in the 90s on a flat road out to the lake. Not a whole lot of fun, but I do love having a look at the lake.
This week was another reminder(as if the point really needed to be driven home) that life is fragile. I probably hear something along the lines of "appreciate every day, for it is a gift" on a daily basis. After a while, it starts to sound like white noise, or the reflex of saying "bless you" after one hears a sneeze- Just something you say as a response to a stimulus. Each day is just another chance for us to be who we want to be, for if we die tomorrow, we could at least die trying to be what we want to be.
Times like these make me realize that there is very little keeping us alive, and that the rug could be pulled out from under us without notice. I want to enjoy every day and celebrate it. Every time I even start to slip into a sense of security, the universe wakes me up and makes me realize that I have to keep going. I don't want to wake up in a different, mundane life and wonder how the hell I got there.
Fear keeps us from realizing that we're capable of more. I'd rather fear stagnation than failure.
In other News:
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you may have heard me whining about getting my ass kicked on the track/road/trail/ etc by Alex Poulsen. He took a little time off to get his back right, and came back even better than before. Congrats, Alex, on the win at the Chatanooga Mountain Stage Race. 60 miles over 3 days. Michigan was well represented. Evan Groendyk, another member of my college running crew, took 3rd place in a half marathon this weekend. Positive vibes all around, fellas. Michigan breeds hardy runners, I tell ya what.