So today I was supposed to run 16 miles. The only problem was that 3 1/2 miles into my run, I had a mental temper tantrum where I declared I hated running, was sick of waking up at 4 am to run for hours, suffering from stomach issues and sore legs the rest of the day, and would much rather be planted on a couch sleeping, eating ice cream, or both.
A half mile later I was at my car with tears in my eyes. I went home and told my husband that I was disappointed in myself for being a quitter. He told me that I was hardly a quitter; hadn't I just run a half-marathon six days earlier?? Maybe I was just tired.
Maybe I was. So I went to sleep. And when I woke up, I decided that no, I didn't hate running. In fact, I still loved it. Waking up at 4 am once a week isn't all that bad, and the soreness and tummy problems are things I've gotten very accustomed to shrugging off, because usually the sense of accomplishment I get from these long runs overrides these complaints.
But sometimes you have to listen to the complaints. Sometimes you need a break. I'm not sure how long my break will last, but today I certainly needed it.
People have been warning me for months of "burn out" and I always shrugged it off, thinking it was mind over matter. But there's definitely a physical component to burn out, so I'm going to need to ride this break out and practice the New-Agey sounding art of "listening to my body." I'm afraid that if I don't, it simply will go on strike.