Owning the Quit

About ten days ago I quit running. Though unlike politicians who "suspend" rather than "end" campaigns (few if any have any intention of "unsuspending"), I figured I was done. Really done. I have quit a number of times over the past twenty-five years for a variety of reasons, all of which are, in truth, lame excuses: work, children, injury and burnout, to name a few.

Crossing the finish line in a green tee...
eight years ago!

This morning I woke up after a day home from school for illness, desiring again to move. Really move. I'd had ten days of sedentary living, my exercise limited to standing in class teaching (or talking depending on whom you ask), walking around the building during planning periods, or logging many minutes and virtual miles destroying mutants and zombies in my console game obsession of the moment. While it was acceptable (not really "fun" or "satisfying" in nay sense) being lazy with my diet and exercise regiment, despite not wishing to go out into the cold, I did the next best thing by pulling on my CROCS and clothes to head to the gym and roll a few miles on the treadmill.

Months ago, I had signed up for next weekend's local running tradition, a St. Patty's Day 5-miler through downtown Rochester. I had considered skipping it up until this morning, but after waking up feeling older and more tired than I should, I re-committed to finishing what I had started when I signed-up. Last year at this time of year, I found myself in a similar training funk and went the distance in a noble (if pedestrian) time. With the goal this year of performing at least as well, I put pen to paper journal and once again began tracking my miles and pace. More importantly than finishing next Saturday's run, I aspire to use this festive race to continue jump starting my training.

If experience has told me anything, owning the small victories of finishing a race you have worked hard to train is a much more palatable pill than owning the fact that you've quit... again.