Week 21

"Losing hope is not so bad. There's something worse: losing hope and hiding it from yourself."

Walker Percy

Last week was an absolute and utter trainwreck.

After recovering from the black plague (I am NOT a good sick person. Living alone for 5+ years has not helped with this. As I just pretty much wallow around in my pajamas and randomly yell expletives), I figured the rest of the week would be awesome. For one, my birthday was on Friday and I was excited about that AND it was going to be the hardest marathon training week, which, in a sick and twisted way, I was also excited for.

And it was the longest and hardest running week I've ever had (on paper), but to be completely honest... I don't even fucking remember that. My running felt no different than any other week. 

Wednesday started the week's downward spiral. Wednesday afternoon I got some disappointing news and while I spent an hour long run with The KoB that afternoon bitching and moaning about it, afterwards, I still hadn't shaken it. Thursday somehow turned into a pretty damn good day. But, by my birthday on Friday, I was a live wire. Any and every little thing would result in my eyes welling up with tears. There are about 2-3 times a year where my hormones get out of whack and I can never pinpoint when it's going to happen. It must have something to do with my cycle and the moon or the tides or some other granola bullshit, but whatever it is, when it happens, I am a MESS. And frustratingly, I know it's irrational and not me, but it's so overwhelming that I can't help it. As it turns out, Friday, those hormones started flowing. HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY. WORK LATE AND GO TO THE GROCERY STORE AND BUY YOURSELF A SAD SLIVER OF SHITTY RED VELVET CAKE, SING "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" TO YOURSELF, AND EAT IT WHILE STANDING AT YOUR KITCHEN COUNTER LISTENING TO BON IVER'S "RE:STACKS" OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

To be clear... it was my choice. Earlier in the week, I had told my family and the KoB that I didn't want to celebrate my birthday on Friday, because I had my last long run early Saturday. Normally, I am a sane and reasonable person and this would not have been a big deal. I had no idea that my hormones were going to turn me into a 14 year old, self-obsessed, melodramatic, depressed bitch.

Unfortunately, Saturday I wasn't feeling much better. After crying to my mom on the phone that morning and then crying to The KoB on Saturday night (I am the best daughter and girlfriend EVER!), I felt a little better emotionally, but I still felt like an irrational, crazy person.

I woke up on Sunday morning and felt more like myself.(GET OUT OF MY BODY, HORMONES) I saved my recovery run for the evening where I realized: holy shit. I ran 70+ miles this week. Emotionally, the week was pretty fucking rocky... but training-wise: it was an awesome week. Silver linings and unicorns and whatnot.

Because this is a running blog afterall:

Speed: 10x800s- Yasso style

Long: 20 miles at a specific pace

Total: 70ish miles.

Per usual, I did NOT want to do the 800s. And after each one, I contemplated quitting. BUT, I stuck with it and got them done and I have to say... they really weren't all that hard. I was just kinda bored. See ya this fall, Yasso.

My long run, I ran 6 miles on my own and then met up with Striders for a 14 mile group run. It was snowing. SNOWING. And the snow stuck to the roads and sidewalks, so I was a little cautious and ran a little slower than I would have liked.

 The good news? 20 miles felt like nothing.

At the end of the week I had 70+ miles WITH a day off. Yeah... I'd say it was a good week. (The KoB pointed out on my log that if I were counting my weeks Sunday-Saturday like weirdos do, that I would have had an 83 mile week. WHAAAAAA?).

I am happy to report that I am back to normal (normal for me, that is) and now that my hormone level is back to regular, it's time for me to catch the Taper Crazies!!!!! (Thank god those two times didn't collide. THE HORROR!).