Scratch that post from yesterday about getting up at 6am this morning to go meet my running partner - it's raining today, sort of. "Severe weather" was what the Weather Channel was predicting last night before bed. I'll run in the rain, but I won't travel to Central Park to run in the rain. This may mean a gym trip or even a spin class to get my heart rate up today.
Or it might mean nothing. Honestly, I'm pretty much swamped at work right now. It's the beginning-of-the-semester rush and I've had meetings to attend and lectures to write and deadlines to meet and now already papers to grade. I got home from an 11 hour day at the office yesterday and nearly crumpled into a little ball on the couch, stuffing myself with chicken fingers and watching crap tv because I couldn't think to do anything else. Things calm down some next week, but in the meantime I'm using next weekend's half as an excuse to taper this week.
(But, Tracy, you say, you used last weekend's 10m race as an excuse to taper last week!)
(Shut up, I say. Then I mumble something annoyed under my breath because you totally called me out on it.)
Drat. I'm going to have to go to the gym later tonight just to show you, aren't I? Drat.
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"