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First and Last Log of the Season (Dedication!)

November 12, 2011 (Morning)

Exercise Type: Run

Weather: Beautiful

Comments:
Don't read this monster of a log that isn't even actually a log unless you truly feel like listening to me attempt to wax eloquent about my far from fascinating running career.

I dreaded two things this weekend: today's race and designing my casa soñada for Spanish class. My final 5k (for a while, at least) was not nearly as bad as I expected. The dream house, however, still looks to be rough.

I've had a pretty lousy season in terms of injuries, times, and overall fitness (I'm qualifying because I've enjoyed being part of the team just as much as if not more than ever). In fact, I've had a pretty lousy three seasons since freshman year, when, believe it or not, I was reasonably fast.

This morning wasn't a huge departure from that--seeing 29:15ish on the clock didn't leave me in raptures. It did, however, leave me throwing up (just a teeny bit; it was cute as far as disgusting things go). And I was happy about that, not because I enjoy emptying my stomach, but because it meant I tried.

I think a lot of the problems I've had throughout my four seasons of cross country have stemmed from a lack of trying. I got discouraged after I hurt my hip freshman year and had to spend weeks not exercising. At the time, I enjoyed sitting in my basement drinking root beer, eating numerous oatmeal cookies, and watching every single episode of Friends at least twice instead of pounding the streets of DC day after day. Right after I was cleared to run again, though, I noticed how miserable it was to be out of shape. A reasonable solution would have been to get back in the swing of things, but I'm not always abundantly reasonable, so I just decided my glory days were over.

The injuries I suffered in the next few years were all very real, but I don't believe I worked hard enough to bounce back from them. In fact, junior and sophomore years, discovering that my shins hurt too much not to limp was almost a relief. It meant I had an excuse for not achieving at as high a level as I did originally.

I'm mad at myself for holding back too much and not enjoying running to the degree I probably could have. But I'm so, so, so glad I kept doing it. Being on the cross-country and track teams has taught me a ton about what I'm good at and what I need to work on, both athletically and personally. I'm not going to bore anyone (more than I already have) with the specifics or share secrets from the depths of my soul on that front.

What I wanted to accomplish in this post and what I probably should have done before yapping about myself for paragraphs, which I won't delete because I'm far too narcissistic to destroy my work, was thanking a number of people. Anthony, who not only put up with with my whining for four years but also never let me throw in the towel completely, Leah, who is definitely one of the best, most reliable, most thoughtful, and most kind friends I'll ever have and people I'll ever know, Marisa, whose positive energy and peppy goofiness have powered me through many a dreary day, and everyone else on the team. It's because of you guys that I really do love running.