The One You Feed

Looking back at my last blog, I’m more than a little surprised at my positive outlook. I spent the second half of my vacation even deeper in the pain cave than I started. There were highlights—it was still a vacation, and my first one with my first child—but overall it was a slog. I need a vacation from my vacation, and not for any of the fun reasons.

I got my first decent night of sleep in a while last night. It was amazing to be back in my own bed. I can tell I’m on the mend, but I still skipped my run this morning.

I’ve skipped a lot of runs lately. I’ve run a grand total of two miles since my last post, and they sucked.

That really sucks.

I’m trying hard to balance running against everything else going on in my life, and for the first time in a while I can feel it going wobbly, and for the first time in even longer I’m wondering if I can do this at all.

Kid, wife, job, house. Daycare. Chores. Family obligations. Running. Running blog. Who has the time? My wife and I can barely get a minute in front of the TV together. I’m supposed to BQ?

At the same time, I ran my fastest 5 miles since college a month ago. Even last week, before daycare germs and a sleep regression and a hard foam mattress and no air conditioning left me feeling hopeless (and hopelessly tired), I was looking up. I’m still thinking about signing up for a half marathon in five weeks—as a tune-up. Somewhere under the murky surface of the present moment, something is still working.

Or I’m delusional, but you know me by now; I’m not usually confident enough to pull off delusional.

What I am is of two minds. Is running at this level at this stage in my life impossible, or is it already happening? Should I be patient, or should I be realistic?

Two wolves: determination and despair. It’s gonna be the one I feed.

Time to get some sleep.