5:30 A.M. run and I haven't met since track season of 2011.
I forgot how beautiful a run before the sunrise can be--no traffic, no irrelevant stoplights, birds singing, and NO SUN. For some reason I can't explain, my mind has been conditioned to believe that the sun is my enemy when running. Whether it's eighty degrees or forty, my body doesn't want to push itself when it faces the sun. I know it's all in my head, but this is an obstacle I haven't been able to overcome since whenever it developed.
Yesterday's run should have been perfect; the sun didn't come out till later in the afternoon, which meant cooler temperatures, though it was pretty humid. Kat and I took off for a five-miler, keeping it easy, and I hadn't skipped a day, so the two-day curse couldn't even apply. Yet I had to stop a couple of times for no apparent reason. Seriously. No apparent reason. I wasn't hurting anymore than I should have been; I didn't feel sick; I wasn't out of breath; I'm not THAT out of shape (though I am pretty out of shape). I just couldn't push myself anymore.
The funny thing is this: we'd turn toward the sun, I'd fall back, lose motivation, sometimes stop for a quick break. Then we would turn away from the sun, maybe find some shade, and I would feel strong enough to push myself harder and try to close the gap. But as soon as we turned back toward the sun, my progress would be erased.
I wouldn't call that run a success. This morning, however, was more enjoyable. Though running in the dark has that I-think-I'm-running-faster-than-I-really-am effect on you, at least I didn't stop for a break or run so slow that I got nothing out of it.
I don't usually like to waste time by rambling, but at least I'm not in the Denial stage anymore.
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