Throw back Thursday picture I found a few weeks ago that my friend snapped in 1996 while we were waiting for two other friends. On our way to see RENT at the Nederlander in NYC. What a great time and even greater memories.
Finding the picture made me want to rummage through some stuff to find the playbill and ticket stub (I always keep those things), and I did! I want to mention the coat I'm wearing in the photo. I bought that coat for $1 in 1987 at a thrift store. I still have that coat and wear it on occasion (it is too large for me and the lining looks like a spiderweb, but I wear it anyway). I just pulled it out of the closet, and it's serving as the backdrop in the playbill/ticket stub photo.
Beautiful memories: Wonderful play, good friends, cheap coat.
I made a last minute decision to run a 10K on Saturday (ashamedly, I was waiting to see what Mother Nature was going throw down on us). I've been working on my pace for the last few weeks, thinking it might be possible to beat my time from last year for this same 10K. I could not have been more wrong.
Apparently, running a good race requires sleep, and I counted 0 sheep the night before. Not 1 tiny little lamb (I wasn't even near the pasture). Bedtime is my nemesis. My adult years have been plagued with erratic sleep patterns and poor habits. I've had a particularly annoying two weeks in the sleep department and not functioning at 100% (60% is generous). I proved to myself just how low-functioning I am on Saturday by running my worst race ever. Not only did I not beat my time from last year, I added 6 minutes to my total. An entire minute to each mile.
I started out much too fast and I knew it before I got to mile 3. I was toast. Day old toast. I considered throwing myself to the side of the road and wait for Poseidon to report me missing. I don't know how, but I pulled it together, opting not to look for the nearest ditch. I was dragging. My effort was pitiful, but I managed to run the entire 6.27 miles, though the last quarter of a mile was more like a determined-not-to-trip-over-my-own-feet jog. I've said it before, I'm not fast and my form is never pretty, but oh my, this run takes the cake!
I felt terrible for thinking I could just show up and do this thing, and I thought about literally kicking myself, but I didn't have the energy. So, now what?
1. Running a race does require sleep. OK. Got it.
2. I ran 6.27 miles without stopping, knowing my time would be terrible. How about instead of kicking myself, I give myself a little pat on the back? Done! Feeling better.
3. Shake it off! I was online this morning searching for my next race. Anxiety and that nagging fear of failing again is strong, but so am I. Gordon Pirie (British runner in the 1950s) said, "Any runner who denies having fears, nerves or some kind of disposition is a bad athlete, or a liar."
I've been cranky and downright mean lately (throw in harsh, for grins) and it's disturbing. I was overly frustrated with a friend, and I was monstrous to her, and she really needed my support. I don't have an explanation for it, and I don't want to start a conversation of substance with myself because it will only bring me down, so today, on this beautiful Friday, I'm simply pressing the reset button.
Google's use of the DoubleClick cookie enables it and its partners to serve ads based on your visit to my site and/or other sites on the Internet.
You may opt out of the use of the DoubleClick cookie for interest-based advertising by visiting the ads preference manager.