Inspiration, Persuasion, or Bribery: Whatever it Takes

Yesterday was a long-run day for me.  It was scheduled for Saturday, but even with my love of cold-weather running, I do have my limits.  A sub-zero wind chill is one of them.  Sunday was going to be marginally warmer and rather less breezy, so Jason and I opted to reschedule both our runs and go see a movie instead.

(Season of the Witch.  Good-not-great.)

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful, and Jason headed out cheerfully enough for his seventeen-miler.  I, however, could not get off my butt.  I had to finish my coffee.  Then I had to eat a banana.  Then some ibuprofen for the weather headache I woke up with.  Then I had to look at lolcats.  Anything I could think of to avoid pulling on my running shoes, I did.  But I HAD to run.  I'd already put it off one day, and I know exactly what happens if I put off things for more than a day--they run away.  They run away from me, like a beagle after a bunny, and they don't come back easily if at all.

It got down to my drop-dead time; if I didn't get out the door right.that.minute, I was not going to have time to shower and scarf down some food before having to leave for work at noon.  I heaved my still-headachey and now slightly-queasy tuchus out of my computer chair and dug some clean running clothes out of the dryer.  (I don't know why I was slightly queasy, as I am in possession of, if not an iron stomach, certainly an aluminum one.  I suspect the imminence of failure for the day was squicking out my subconcious.)  I promised myself that if I still felt like crap after half a mile, I could turn around.

Well, GUESS WHAT.  I didn't feel like crap after a half a mile.  In fact, I felt pretty darn good--which is exactly what I knew would happen.  I kept running, spiraling around my subdivision because my regular path was frozen over.  One mile, two miles, three miles--and I was done with my run, just like that.  My headache was gone (from the run or from the ibuprofen, I neither know nor care), my stomach had settled into its usual happy, gurgling, burping state, and my legs felt light and alive.  In fact, my third mile was my fastest since last spring, and I didn't feel like I was really working all that hard.

What I'm getting at is that, no matter how much you love running and want to succeed at it, there will be days when you really couldn't care less if your ass grows into your couch cushions.  Maybe it's hot.  Maybe it's raining.  Maybe it's cold.  Maybe you only have two hours to spare and you want to spend that time looking at lolcats.  Whatever your hang-up, the prospect of slipping into your shoes looks as daunting as the slopes of Kilimanjaro.   

There will be days when you don't care how hard you suck, as long as you can do it in front of the TV.

But!!!  There are ways to crush those thoughts!  Everyone has their own methods of dealing with those days.  Maybe you're trying to lose weight, and you visualize what you might look like when you reach your goal weight.  Maybe you know you'll be pissed at yourself in the future, looking back at that gaping hole in your records (that one works for Jason).  Maybe you're aiming to beat your marathon PR, and you think about those numbers on the time clock as you sail across the finish line like a goddamn Rocky Balboa.

Visualizing rarely works for me.  My brain just goes, "You're right, that WOULD suck to punk out and end up penciling in a zero for the day.  Here, have a brownie."  I need something more tangible.

• Running clothes.  I admit it, I am a superficial twit--when I look good, I feel good.  I may be a mediocre runner, but my wardrobe is fantastic.  No billowing sweatpants or tent-sized t-shirts for me.  My tops are tight, my pants are tighter, and the modern tech fabrics keep me as comfortable as possible.  I wear bright colors, like hot pink, lime green, and electric blue; they make me happy and they make me visible--very important on a dazzlingly sunny day when there's a blanket of blinding snow on everything.  I have learned how to layer just the right amount to keep warm, and I have a variety of clothes and accessories for all types of weather.  There is no external excuse for me missing a run, with the exception of dangerous conditions: bad footing, lightning, blizzards, extreme cold (and by "extreme" I mean "near-instantaneous frostbite on exposed skin," not "oh noes, it's below freezing").

• My Garmin.  It has set me free.  Before this blessed gift from Jason, I was limited to mapping out a predetermined route on Google Maps, zooming in close to pick out a bush or tree or driveway to use as a turn-around point.  It's a sketchy method at best, and most of the time I ended up on a boring out-and-back course because I didn't feel like mapping out an entire loop.  And if my route turned out to be flooded, or under construction, or otherwise obstructed, I had two options: venture off into unknown distances and hope I remembered it when I got home so I could map it out, or turn around and short myself.  Now, with the tiny computer machine strapped to my wrist, I can just run.  It beeps cheerfully every time I turn over a mile, and I find I spend a lot less time looking at my watch.  Running has become more of a leisure activity and less of a chore, now that the rigidity of maps has been eliminated.

• Okay, so this isn't exactly tangible, but it is a rule that I never, ever break: on the days I am scheduled to run, I MUST do at least a half-mile.  If, at the end of that half-mile, I still don't wanna do it, I can turn around and run home.  That way, I've still run one mile, and I can say I tried.  The thing is, though--and this is universally true--if it's a purely mental reason for not wanting to run, once you get out there, you'll find that you're really okay and you can keep going.  Now, if you're injured or sick, that may not be the case.  I figure if you reach that point and you're still not feeling it, you probably shouldn't be running anyway.  Take a rest day, go ahead and plant your butt on the couch with some tea and soup, and try again tomorrow.

• If all else fails, find something that spurs you forward.  Maybe it's a picture of those kickass shoes you'll treat yourself with when you've lost fifteen pounds.  Maybe you still have a pair of your skinny jeans in the closet, and you want to zip them up again, even if they're ten years out of date and the public will never see them.  OR MAYBE YOU COULD LOOK AT THIS...

Apologies for the crap sound quality, but it's STEVE EFFING PERRY, live in concert.  He looks psychotic.  I love him.