"No doubt a brain and some shoes are essential for marathon success, although if it comes down to a choice, pick the shoes. More people finish marathons with no brains than with no shoes." -- Don Kardong
Do you ever wish you could leave a piece of your body at home when you leave for a run? Maybe a nagging knee, an aching back, or an upset stomach. Your whole body feels great, except this 1 part and you know, no matter how hard you try to push the pain, annoyance or discomfort away, it's going to be there and it's going to make the run TERRIBLE.
The other day I was eager to get out and run. The weather has been fantastic and I know my days are numbered for how long I can get away with running in shorts. I set out to do a quick 2 or 3 miles and decided on a route I haven't taken in awhile. As I was making way through the neighborhood I was getting warmed up and felt great. I was definitely geared up for a successful run. However, something happened once I reached the main road. My brain decided to join the run and it wasn't very happy.
See, my brain started to tell me all of these evil things about my body. It told me that my right ankle was popping out of the socket every time I touched down on the road. It told me that my left foot had a twinge and that my bone was probably breaking again. It told me that I had stomach cramps, and maybe I shouldn't have eaten such a big lunch. It told me that I couldn't breathe, because I had a cold last week. It just kept going and going and going and everything that it said I BELIEVED.
My own brain ruined my run. It made something that should have been so easy, so cathartic, into something that I absolutely hated. I wanted to just sit down on the side of the road a mile away from house and cry. My brain made me second guess why I even run, and how in the world did I manage to run TWENTY SIX (point 2) miles just a mere 5 months ago? Despite the misery I was feeling, I made my legs continue on the run. I tried to push the evil thoughts out of my brain and think about how great I was feeling, but nothing I did or even said (yes, I talked to myself) could get my brain on board with the run.
When I got home I was beyond annoyed. If only I could have left my brain at home, my run would have been great. All of the conditions were in my favor for a great run, but I couldn't escape the nagging, annoying thoughts that I couldn't accomplish what I had set out to do. It's amazing how much the brain can overcome what you're trying to achieve. When these types of runs happen, I try to remember that a bad run does not define the type of runner that I am. I can overcome a bad run. I can and will have another run where everything is in tune and in sync. As Dr. Seuss says, "You have brains in your head. You have feet in your (running) shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose." There are definitely days when it would be easier to leave my brain at home; running with only the feet in my shoes. To be able to avoid the reminder that I am not always feeling my best, despite my best efforts, would be amazing. But with out my brain, will I know if I can succeed? I need my brain on the good runs to say, "Yes! You will indeed! (98 3/4 percent guaranteed)."
Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly
The other day I was eager to get out and run. The weather has been fantastic and I know my days are numbered for how long I can get away with running in shorts. I set out to do a quick 2 or 3 miles and decided on a route I haven't taken in awhile. As I was making way through the neighborhood I was getting warmed up and felt great. I was definitely geared up for a successful run. However, something happened once I reached the main road. My brain decided to join the run and it wasn't very happy.
See, my brain started to tell me all of these evil things about my body. It told me that my right ankle was popping out of the socket every time I touched down on the road. It told me that my left foot had a twinge and that my bone was probably breaking again. It told me that I had stomach cramps, and maybe I shouldn't have eaten such a big lunch. It told me that I couldn't breathe, because I had a cold last week. It just kept going and going and going and everything that it said I BELIEVED.
My own brain ruined my run. It made something that should have been so easy, so cathartic, into something that I absolutely hated. I wanted to just sit down on the side of the road a mile away from house and cry. My brain made me second guess why I even run, and how in the world did I manage to run TWENTY SIX (point 2) miles just a mere 5 months ago? Despite the misery I was feeling, I made my legs continue on the run. I tried to push the evil thoughts out of my brain and think about how great I was feeling, but nothing I did or even said (yes, I talked to myself) could get my brain on board with the run.
When I got home I was beyond annoyed. If only I could have left my brain at home, my run would have been great. All of the conditions were in my favor for a great run, but I couldn't escape the nagging, annoying thoughts that I couldn't accomplish what I had set out to do. It's amazing how much the brain can overcome what you're trying to achieve. When these types of runs happen, I try to remember that a bad run does not define the type of runner that I am. I can overcome a bad run. I can and will have another run where everything is in tune and in sync. As Dr. Seuss says, "You have brains in your head. You have feet in your (running) shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose." There are definitely days when it would be easier to leave my brain at home; running with only the feet in my shoes. To be able to avoid the reminder that I am not always feeling my best, despite my best efforts, would be amazing. But with out my brain, will I know if I can succeed? I need my brain on the good runs to say, "Yes! You will indeed! (98 3/4 percent guaranteed)."
Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly
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