I can’t. That’s the story of today. I can’t.
Everything is going wrong. This weekend saw a slower race time. The bathroom scale shows a higher number (and believe me it ain’t because muscle weighs more than fat… it’s because more fat weighs more than less fat). And my recovery run yesterday was a sobering reminder that I’m far, far away from my goal time pace even on shorter distances. And today, every molecule in my body seems to be oxygen starved. I’m exhausted in a way I haven’t felt in a long, long time. I can’t bring myself to go out for a run. But apparently I can bring myself to open a bag of tortilla chips and eat every last one. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror right now.
In short, the moonshot is a mess.
Somewhere in the cruddy algorithmically flawed Facebook newsfeed, I spotted this post from a Marathon Maniac.
My marathon training began with a book. Perhaps it’s time to revisit that plan. And with the looming electronics ban on Transatlantic flights that will impact my kindle and iPad usage, a physical book may one of the more useful things I can purchase.
Thanks to Amazon’s handy-dandy “human scale” imagery I even know how big the thing will be… if I were a semi-transparent, gender neutral and slim t-shirt wearing humanoid.
But I still can’t today. Today is all things “can’t.” My shoes are by the door. I could put them on and go out. But they are so far away. Farther away than almost anything I’ve ever imagined.
I can’t. I just can’t.
Maybe tomorrow? No, that’s just an excuse, a bargaining ploy.
But even knowing that, I still can’t.
This all is a major setback.
I can’t let this define me. But I can’t do anything about it right now. I just… can’t.