On Doing Things You Don’t Want To Do

Holly GoLightly (or Truman Capote if you will) has a rather infamous quote describing the “mean reds”, which perfectly sums up my reluctance the other weekend to do a race. For your pleasure it is, “The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?”

I wasn’t necessarily afraid but I was just not in the mood to run. Sometimes I get like that. There are days I’d rather gnaw my own arm off than go for a 5 mile run. Most of the time running is a treat, it’s an indulgence (especially running on the hudson as the sun sets), but this Sunday was not a treat. I had to haul my hungover butt all the way up to Corona Park in Queens for the NYRR Queens 10k (A marathon qualifier). Alone. At 6 in the morning. And I had forgotten my iPhone case, which meant I was going to have to carry my phone with all my ID.

Now I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is REALLY a non event. I’m lucky to have legs to walk on, to grow up somewhere that running is a sport and not something done out of desperation, and to be grateful that I’ve never had to physically run away from something threatening me. I am blessed. But some days you really just don’t want to do things. So I cried. (Really I did, I’m not proud but I figure you should all know my life isn’t always sunshine and daisies). And I stormed around. I tried to get out of going. I complained (I may not win races but I am a champion complainer). I moaned. I tried to rationalize skipping it. I took a cab 10 blocks to the subway. I was running late. But finally I decided that I was going to suck it up. Dig down deep, grind out those hot, sticky, miles all alone in Queens (till my best support system showed up to watch me finish).

So I did. It wasn’t particularly glamorous. I ended up slower than usual. I didn’t feel great. I wasn’t frolicking through fields of daisies. But I showed up. And I finished. And I did it through sheer dint of will. We all have that in us. Some of us have it lying dormant deep down inside of us, and some of us have wells of strength right under the surface. Regardless of who you are, regardless of if you run, we all have that ability to kick our own ass. And it’s kinda great when we do.

As an aside, Post race I made the executive decision to head out to the shore of Long Island to frolic in the sound as a reward to myself (in my running clothes no less, because why waste time changing into a swimsuit when there’s sunshine and boat time to be had?!).