"Hey, buddy, do you need a lift?"

As I have relayed in an earlier post, this past fall I was on a running streak that, for me, was pretty epic. Between August 1 and December 15 I logged over 400 miles, averaging around 40 miles a week. My goal was two-fold: I wanted to log the most miles in a single year since I started recording my mileage in 2000 and I wanted to run the Tuscobia Ultra. But on a frigid Saturday morning during a 15-mile run (on December 15) I strained my hamstring enough to hobble me and make running the Tuscobia undoable. Despite the injury I still limped myself over the 1,300 mile threshhold for 2012. But since then the streak has ended, I've put on some weight and as I near the end of January I'm just hoping to cross the 50-mile mark for the month. Part of it is the injury, part of it is life-interrupting and part of it is...well, yeah, laziness.

This past week I ran on 3.5 on a morning that was -27 below with the wind chill but didn't run again until this morning. By comparison it was a balmy -9 below this morning but no wind. I decided to just do a quick 4 and felt pretty good. Part of recovery is rest and while I'm not logging the miles lately as fiercely as I was back in October and November, this morning I ran pretty much without noticing any leg pain whatsoever. And then my bubble was popped. I could hear a vehicle coming from behind me and slowing. I figured it was someone I knew who was going to drive by and wish me some encouragement. But it was someone I didn't know who rolled down his window and asked, "Hey, buddy, do you need a lift?" The first thing I thought was, "Do I look like I do? I mean, I'm in my wind suit on a Saturday morning on a quick four-mile jaunt. Does it look like I'm in distress? Or - God forbid - am I moving so slow it looks like I'm just a guy out for a brisk walk?" All these thoughts passed through my brain in milliseconds. What I spoke out was, "No, thanks. I'm good."



Not me but I've looked like this guy before

 I know he was just being neighborly. He was offering assistance to someone who looked to be in need but the comment and the gesture worked together to deflate my already depressed ego. Thanks, buddy. Maybe I deserve it. I've been at this running-thing long enough to know that you have good runs and bad ones, good weeks and crappy weeks, good seasons and other seasons. The main thing is to keep going, let go of the bad runs and put the shoes on tomorrow (or, for me, Monday morning) and get back out there. Even a bad day of running is preferable over being unable to run at all. Besides, the "bad runs" (and really, though I was slow today it was a beautiful morning to be out) make you appreciate the good ones all the more when they do come again. And they will come again.