I’ve been having a hard time finding my groove this week.
After the Smokin Aces’ outstanding repeat performance of a 2nd place finish at the Smoky Mountain Relay last weekend, I re-entered reality on Monday, and I came crashing down from my high. I awoke Monday with a sinus infection and an overwhelming “To do” list.
If you are an avid Seinfeld watcher, such as I, you may remember the episode where Jason Alexander proclaimed the Summer of George. At the end of March, I declared that April would be the Summer of Lindsey. I had a fair amount on the calendar this month so I decided that any stretch of time that I didn’t have work, or kids, or whatever, was going to be about taking care of me. However, as April has worn on, somehow I inadvertently defaulted to my people pleasing ways and have tried to be all things to all people, which has left me in a somewhat stressed and miserable state as I’ve felt that I just can’t measure up. All of this eventually led me to throw a rather large pity party for myself as I started to wonder “But who’s going to take care of ME?!” Ok, I’ll stop my whining. For now. Needless to say, April has not gone according to plan. It has not been the Summer of Lindsey, but more like the Summer of Stress. And it’s not even summer, it’s still flipping cold!
Through the course of the week, I’ve been managing to get through all the activities, the projects, the child-care debacles, and working my way through that list. I even threw a trip to the clinic into the mix to get some antibiotics. Sometime during the week, I think it was on Tuesday, I recall seeing a Facebook status update by my friend, Luke Hoffman that read, “Just going to go for a run. That fixes everything, right?” Well, running can’t exactly pay the bills…or, I guess in my case it sort of can, but it can’t sit down and actually write the checks, which was one of the things on my very long list. But Luke has a point. Just like every other runner I know, whenever I start feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I need my daily dose of endorphins. So, Tuesday night, I went out for a run…in the rain. It was a cold, but puddle-stomping good time with friends. We were soaked to the skin. That was supposed to fix everything, but instead, now here I sit, still fighting a sinus infection with a marathon only 8 days away. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.
On Thursday, I lead the social run. I started out with Gerry, who was chugging along at my laboriously slow pace (You need to understand, this guy is fast. I mean really fast. So for him to run my pace under any circumstances is painful.) I told him that I was sick and slow, so he didn’t need to hang with me. He didn’t. He took off and soon he was nothing more than a dot to me. But as runners, we all understand the need to run our own pace. As I ran, I started to feel surprisingly better. I picked up my pace. I got faster. I negative split. And by the time all was said and done, what started as an 8:40/mi pace, ended up with my last mile at a 7:20. Over my 5 miles, I averaged about 8:00/mi and I felt good. Really good. But about an hour later, I was exhausted. I had used up all I had. I think it’s pretty clear my body is telling me to take it easy and rest up for next weekend.
So, today, I decided to “take it easy” with a nice bike ride at Forest Park with my friend Nikki. After work, we kicked off the weekend with a couple loops around the park. It was chilly, but it was a good ride and nice way to give my joints a break. Or so I thought. Until we were cruising down Skinker, going along at a pretty good clip and then out of nowhere I had a totally epic wipeout. It was an impressive display. Seriously, it was stunningly beautiful. I don’t think anyone could re-enact it if they tried. It happened so fast, that neither one of us saw it coming. Just as it started to happen, I had exactly enough time to realize I was going down. Fast. And I could do it up ahead where there was gravel and asphalt. Or I could do it right where I was, in the grass. And at precisely that second, I hit the ground. As soon as the shock wore off, I happily realized that nothing was broken, or at least nothing that I need to run a marathon next week. I briefly considered the possibility that I had dislocated a finger, but since I’m able to type with just minimal pain, I think it’s probably only a mild sprain. Then, I spent the next several minutes lying on the ground laughing hysterically. Ya know when you’re laughing so hard that no sound is coming out? Yeah, like that. If you can’t laugh at yourself, what can you really do? And I’m quite sure anyone who happened to be on Skinker Avenue at approximately 5:40pm today, is probably still telling the story of what they witnessed.
Life is the same way, isn’t it? We can be skipping right along thinking everything is hunky dory, and then suddenly we’re screaming, “Mayday! Mayday! Man down!” This week humbled me. I was slapped in the face with how hard it is to be a working, single mom who trains for endurance sports and doesn’t like to let people down. I’ve taken on too much and I’ve started to slip. The quality in my performance is lacking because I’ve got too much running through my brain.
But that’s what is so great about my AITA tumble this afternoon. I was going along, too fast, not paying attention, but when catastrophe struck I was able to laugh about it and then pick myself up and keep right on going. Granted I had to dislodge about a square foot of soil from my cycling shoes first, but the point is, I got right back in the saddle. But I slowed down and started thinking about the good things that came out of this week. Quality time with my kids. Running with friends. A laugh with Nikki that has now bonded us forever since she was the one and only person who will be able to use her eye-witness account of what occurred today to keep me grounded when I get too cocky.
Sometimes life just hands you a good old-fashioned face plant. So, what are you gonna do about it?
As for me, I think for the next week I’ll stick to running. Cause just like Luke said, that fixes everything. Or, at least it will hopefully keep me from stitches, broken bones and potential hospitalization until I get through this marathon.
Rick and I after social run on Thursday. He tried to hold me off, but I blew past him in that last mile.