After a great 20 miler and a week of solidly running under 10 minute miles, I didn’t do my long run this weekend.
I just kinda, sorta, skipped it.
After thinking about it, I just kinda needed a break. I went from obsessing over getting a 1/2 marathon done in under 2 hours to finishing my 9+1 and then right into marathon season. I haven’t gone more than 3 days without running in months and I haven’t missed a long run. Looking forward, it was also the realization that the long runs on the weekends and the long runs during the week have no end in sight because I transition from Marine Corps to Dopey. So I’m tired… but…
What really killed it was my father. I went home for the weekend and Saturday morning, when I hadn’t been home 12 hours he started commenting on my weight and my sister’s weight and how at our ages we shouldn’t be fat. He saw her clothes and started commenting on the “fat rolls” and my mother started saying, “it’s not fat it’s just she has to suck in her gut.” I just kind of lost it. I think it’s important for my mother to know that saying “suck in your gut” is the same as saying you’re fat. It’s even more important for my father to learn to shut his f@#king mouth.
So that afternoon, running got caught up with the fat talk. I was running because I was scared shitless of regaining the weight, nothing terrifies me more. And I wasn’t enjoying my run. I hated it and it was getting caught up with this terrible feeling and I’ve learned to divorce the two–running is how I let go of the issues and hatred and self-loathing. I’ve started really loving the idea that even if my body’s just plodding along when I run, my soul feels like it’s soaring, it’s light and unburdened by work and by the mental hang ups and the voices that never seem to quiet themselves.
So I just didn’t run. And tomorrow, I think I will be ready to go back out and run happily, freely, and unburdened.