I was stretching out my psoas after our warmup at bootcamp the other day and my instructor asked if everything was fine. Yes, I responded, I just had to do my evening run rather than my morning run yesterday so everything is a little tight. Later, when I was doing jump squats, she came over to chat – how often do I run? Was I signing up for the upcoming race? I said three days a week and I didn’t feel I had enough time to train for it; I’d never run that far before. She said: “you probably still have time. If not, at least you could do the 10K”
I laughed so hard I fell over. I had forgotten there was a half marathon option. “I might run three days a week but I never said I run that far!”
In the end she told me to think about both, that I still had enough time to train for either, and most importantly reminded me to stretch stretch stretch.
Two days later, I’ve taken a second look at the registration fee and I’m about to lace up my shoes for a “test run” to see how far I can run so I can see how ridiculous this idea is. But mostly, my brain is psyching myself out. Why? Here’s why
- You can’t fail if you never try
- I am far too anxious about the time before the race and starting the race to go alone, and everyone I know that runs is much faster than me so they wouldn’t want me holding them back
- I’ve had knee problems in the past and I don’t want them cropping up again. I’ve enjoyed being able to take the stairs, lift my kids up from a squatting position and not have to ice them every night.
- I feel intensely guilty for running as often as I do and that is why I don’t go far. I don’t like taking the kids with me, and I don’t feel it’s fair to make Scott look after them and the house while I do something “fun”. It doesn’t contribute in a meaningful way to the family and therefore I won’t let myself recognize the value of it.
- I am scared.
Really, the first four of them can be summed up by the last one. I don’t know what I’ll decide to do. Likely, I will decide once it’s already sold out, or more likely, get distracted by the next catastrophe (like the apparently rotting garage we park our brand new vehicle in) and the date will pass me by.
But part of me? Part of me really wants to go for it. The half. The 10k. Just to finally get my negative-talking brain to shut up for once.