Jen Does Stuff – taking a break from “stuff”

This is a tough post to write, but it has been about 3 weeks in the making. I just didn’t see the writing on the wall, or I tried to read between the lines. I tried to put on a face and ‘get by’, but that’s not my style.

I’m not a “fake it until you make it” person.

This weekend, I pulled out of my 100 mile race that’s one month away.

I had it as a 2018 goal of mine to finish the race under 33 hours.

I looked at the board daily, but it never lit a fire under my ass.

It felt like work.

I take a weekend off each month from caring for animals to head out to the mountains to train. But there wasn’t much passion behind it. It felt like a job, it felt like something I *had* to do.

I look back to Labor Day of 2017 when I pulled out of a 70 mile race at mile 25. I wasn’t feeling it. I was feeling a twinge in my back and that’s all my mind could focus on. When I pulled out, I realized I wasn’t really prepared to make it though the night as I hadn’t packed enough gear for the cold.

I had thought of doing a 30 mile race in October that never came to be, and a 100k in early December that never materialized. I had wanted and hoped to do these races, but that won’t get you to the finish line. Sure, it might get you to the start, but if the mind isn’t in it, the heart won’t be, either.

And my heart isn’t in it.

Last month I did a 50k on a Saturday and hiked 10 miles the next. My body needed a break. I should’ve known then. I *think* I knew then, but didn’t want to admit it. On Easter weekend I was supposed to run a nighttime 50k on Saturday, but on the drive out to the start of the run I called my sister crying because I didn’t want to do it. Traffic was shitty, I was feeling shitty, I wasn’t feeling ready, I was feeling stressed, etc. I spent 90 minutes in a gas station parking lot talking to friends working up the nerve to drive home.

I should’ve known then.

This past weekend I had grand plans of heading out to Front Royal and doing a night run on Friday, meeting up with a friend for a 10 mile hike the next day, and then getting in some more trail time on Sunday. But I didn’t have a place to stay, I had done ZERO packing/planning by midweek. Finally on Friday I texted “change of plans” to my friend and just started crying while walking dogs.

I knew then that I would have to withdraw from the race.

If you asked me recently how training has been going, I hemmed and hawed over my response or was really vague.
– “It’s good.”
– “It’s fine.”
– “It’s coming along.”

It was hard to admit that it wasn’t happening. That I wasn’t putting in the training that I should’ve been doing because it became work. My weekends away from work was still work. I missed going out to run or to workout for the sheer joy of working out or running. It felt like there had to be a purpose behind everything. I had to avoid squatting heavy on Friday because of a long run Saturday. Or I’d be missing out on weekend open gyms with my friends because I *had* to get in a long run.

I do enjoy the trails, doing CrossFit in a class, doing workouts on my own, shooting the shit with members, being quite and introspective/reclusive, Olympic lifting, powerlifting, doing stupid long workouts at open gym, etc..

.. so long as it’s fun.

The hardest part of all of this is to see the silver lining in it all. There has to be a bright side, right?

It’s hard to not feel like a failure. It’s hard to admit defeat.

But I know I’m making the right decision. This is a smart decision. I don’t want to get injured. I don’t want to try to do the race for the sake of finishing. For what? For a buckle? I have 6 already from this race, and each one has special meaning behind it. I didn’t feel like there was much purpose behind my training (or lack of it) this year. I do like to suffer, and I have suffered PLENTY during this race in the past. I just wasn’t ready for the mental grind. And if my mind is out of it now, it would be a loooong, miserable race. And I don’t want to be chasing cutoff times.

I have my powerlifting meet in a few weeks, and I’m not sure what will happen after that. But my weekend off next month will involve no running – no mountains, no trails – and hopefully just sitting and reading and sleeping and chilling the fuck out.

I still plan to do stuff and chronicle my progress towards positive mental health and rediscovering the of joys of movement and being active.