Earlier this spring, I got invited to run the More/Shape Half as a member of the media.
Though I’ve honestly never had an awesome time running the race, that has nothing to do with the race organization itself.
The course is sort of dull to a New Yorker — two laps of Central Park, cool. Which means it’s also HARD. I’ve only done well at this race once, but I’ve still net enjoyed it.
Which is why I was going to run it. But then I slacked all winter and the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler sucked too. I’d told myself I’d make a final decision (I hadn’t registered yet) depending on how that went. And after it sucked…the desire to run this half was relatively non-existent.
I’ve felt like I’ve been running on empty the past few weeks, but especially this week. Waking up early for a struggle fest of a race didn’t sound fun to me, so earlier this week I decided I was a definite no.
Last night, I began questioning my decision. I *could* run — it might suck — should I just do that?
I woke up at 8:45 this morning and laid in bed feeling relieved I hadn’t signed up. I’m usually up before 8 on the weekends, so if I slept that late, I probably needed it.
I had told myself I’d run 8 today. Running has been hard on my lungs with the pollen and general out-of-shapeness, but I want to stay on track to have an OK Brooklyn half.
I lazed around for too long and only had time for 4 before heading to meet up with friends who HAD run the race for brunch, including a friend who’d moved.
As I got ready, I saw everyone’s finisher photos on social media, and, much like my friend Mr. Burgundy, immediately regretted my decision.
Why didn’t I just run the damn race? I could have made it through.
I’ve always tried to end most of my blog posts neatly, but although I realize that it might not have been the right thing physically and mentally for me today to run that race, I still don’t feel great that I didn’t.
Onward and upward?