post-vacation frustration

I don't know if I wussed out, or if I'm just human. Probably some of both.

My failure to complete last weekend's long run is a long story, and since I'm frustrated with myself, I feel like ranting. Strap in.


Saturday
When I was planning how my training schedule would work into my vacation home for the holidays long ago, I was happy to see that I was due to fly home on a Sunday--typically a rest day, when all goes according to schedule. I planned to knock out my 9 miles the day before I left Montana to return to Massachusetts. How naive I was.

This being my first time living across the country from my family and hometown friends, this was also my first time returning home to see everyone for after an absence of more than a couple of weeks. Consequently, I had no idea what the "last day before I leave" would entail.

It was madness. I have a habit of doubting anyone who says they were too busy to do such-and-such, because most people have downtime for TV or whatever at some point in their day. As proof for any such skeptics as myself, this is how my Saturday went down:
- 9 AM - 10:30 AM coffee w/ a friend.
- 10:30 AM - 2 PM Christmas celebration with Mom's side of the family
- 2 PM - 4 PM visited by friends from church; showered with cow-related gag gifts (don't ask!)
- 5 PM - 7 PM games with another set of friends from church
- 7 PM - 9 PM games with immediate family and Grandma from Dad's side of family
- 9 PM - 11 PM pack, prepare box of everything that doesn't fit in suitcase to ship to myself, attempt to sleep for my 6 AM flight

I admit: it does look like I had an hour from 4-5 in there. I think I spent it cleaning up though, and I'm sure I couldn't have run 9 miles (and showered) in an hour!

When my head finally hit the pillow that night, I told myself that I would run Sunday--no problem.


Sunday
As I said, I flew out at 6 AM. That meant getting out of bed after a frustratingly restless night at 3:30 AM, leaving for the airport at 4:30, and attempting to sleep on the flight from Billings to Denver between getting elbowed by the young child sitting next to me. But fine--I did catch some sleep on my second flight, so I planned to get home, take a nap, and knock out 9 miles in the afternoon.

Oh how naive I was again!

The airline lost my checked bag, which--inevitably--contained my new running shoes. I could probably have suffered through the run with my old running shoes, but I didn't have those either; I had put them in the box to ship home to myself, since I didn't think I'd need them for a while. Fail.


Monday
This one is where me being a wuss comes in. I headed to the gym after work--the obligatory hectic day that always comes after you're away from your inbox for two weeks--with the intention of running 9 miles.

I made it 4.

I was tired; my legs hurt; I was in a bad mood; the Monday Night Football game I was watching wasn't much of a game at all; I was bored; I was thirsty and had run out of water; I was hot; and the music I had selected wasn't doing it for me. I was pulling out every excuse in the book.

I woke up this morning (Tues) very sore--apparently my body didn't get the memo that I had spared it 5 miles last night. Regardless, it hurt to walk. I guess that's a good reason to have wussed out; I can't imagine what getting out of bed would have been like had I completed the long run.

Still, I was feeling very discouraged today. Life is just stressful right now. It will get better!