I still peruse the Runners World newsletters regularly even though I haven’t run in 3 months and probably won’t run for 6 more thanks to baby goiter enlargening my midriff.   I really miss it but it’s ok because when i’m running regularly I always find that if I can’t make it for a few days, it’s like all that urge, all that juice makes that first run in a while awesome.  So I figure this’ll work for long term non-running too, it’ll be orgasmic just tying up my shoes.

But running is hard, although no harder than holding a yoga pose for longer than is comfortable.  Or doing anything hard. There’s that point where your head has decided for the rest of you that you should be doing anything *but* what you’re doing.  It’s essentially screaming at you. 

But you being the courageous, strong, human being who defines herself by her actions gets to *choose* what you’re going to do about.  You’re going to give in the screaming or say ‘suck it up princess’ and keep going until all of you is ready to stop.

So I love this article on tips for toughing it out in Runners World.  I especially love the bit about focusing on the body parts that don’t hurt, like noticing how great your index finger feels while your legs are burning off at the hip.

I used to do this 10k race pretty regularly in Greenwood, NS every spring.  And it was always harder than I expected.  I never trained enough for it and always thought it should be easier and less painful than it turned out to be.  It was put on by the military so for the last bit of the race we’d run the full length of the runway. 

And I remember being in total pain, the wind always in my face, never my back, running on an airstrip that felt like the longest in the world - like what do they land here the friggin’ Challenger? And then I’d finally round the corner and find the finish line.

And I’d feel kind of pissed off afterwards.  Here I was physically strong and capable enough to run 10k, but nope, I’d be pissed. Angry at myself for not doing enough to train or angry at my body for being as slow as molasses (you think I’d be used to it by now) or angry at the cold weather or angry at the race for being so long and stupid.

One time I caught a ride to the race in a van with a bunch of people.  And on the way back we were talking about what parts of the race were hard and the woman driving was a 40-something very fit nurse and mother of 4 kids.  And she said, “sure it hurts, but eh, it’s just pain”.

I’ll never forget that.  Why  do I bother resisting it or looking for something or someone to blame?  It’s just pain.  Pain happens.  It’s best to be clear about what you have and not what you don’t have.  So when I get back to running it’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be sure to notice how great my index finger feels.