I went running this morning. Why’d I do that? A potentially vain attempt at keeping one step ahead of SAD through moving/being outside. I have to be prepared for when biking season ends and hiding inside, hating everything begins.
I was slow. It was fine. Cold, but fine.
I’ve actually gone out for short runs several times in the last two weeks, which is terribly weird. Even when training, getting out twice a week is a struggle.
Maybe I’m better suited to shorter distances.
Or maybe it’s just that going for a half-hour jaunt without a specific goal/race in mind is far less daunting than worrying about getting a ‘good’ 12K in before then hopping on a bike to get to work, especially when you’re not a superathlete.
Hell, if I ever made it out for a 12K+ run before work, even when it wasn’t pitch black at 7am, I can’t remember it.
I really excel at talking myself out of things.
This might be why my half-marathon times never improve.
Because I’m just coming out of a three-day-long, hormone-induced bout of extreme body dysmorphia (go evolution!), I weighed myself this week. If you believe in the BMI having any meaning on an individual basis, I am officially (just) overweight (per bullshit science) again!
I don’t actually care. Except the three minutes when I do, which can hurt a lot until Logical Brain says “Shut the hell up, you’re fine, everyone’s fine. You don’t judge other people’s size, so stop judging your own. Also, this is good, because maybe your collarbones won’t scare you anymore with some extra padding.”
Check out this Toast article about fitness, body image and that shaming, and shamed, Maria Kang FB photo. I’m probably a Clydesdale.