Sometimes Murphy wants to run. Sometimes Murphy gets distracted. Sometimes Murphy goes after a stick.. in the street… with oncoming traffic. Sometimes I freak out and he doesn’t see why… So, I just quickly jerk him via his harness back over to me on the sidewalk, and say, “Run, puppy, run!” Then he goes back to the happy puppy face with his tongue hanging out and we move on.
This is the 2nd day in a row that Murphy and I have traveled the same 4 miles together in an easy-going manner. Mostly me pushing the pace of what’s considered comfortable, and Murphy reminding me that I don’t always have to push so hard. We averaged 4 miles in 37:03, and yet I still feel so slow. If someone were to read, see, or hear the thoughts in my head, they’d be surprised to hear how hard I am on myself. My body has continued to let me down, and here I am after missing two weeks of training, still struggling to get a full lung capacity breath in, and to get anywhere near the 8:45 or 9:00 minute miles I was doing at the beginning of February before I fell ill.
I hate that I have to start over every time I literally lose time. I hate that my body is not as strong as it was or at least I thought it was. I hate that I’ve been sick so much this year when I never get sick. I hate that circumstances are controlling my path more than I am controlling it. I hate that my mood and personality have been sorely affected by all of the aforementioned circumstances. Stress is stress. My way of dealing with it is running. If I can’t run, the stress builds. If the stress builds, my mood doesn’t get better. If my mood doesn’t get better, I don’t get sleep. If I don’t get sleep, I can’t function at full capacity at my job or in my personal life. It’s an endless circle that I feel like I can’t control. At least Murphy doesn’t mind the miles or the pace. He’s just happy to be with me, and be outside running and playing!
I’m that much closer to Shamrock, and still unsure of where the fate of the race lies. Tomorrow’s another day, another run… time will tell.