This morning, reality slapped my freckled face. Every weekday morning I ride the NJ Transit 126 bus eastward into Manhattan; it's a quick 15ish minute ride that mainly consists of the Lincoln Tunnel. I use this 15 minutes to catch up on my social networking. Same routine every day. Headphones in, Pandora on (today I went with Dolly Parton radio as I watched about three quarters of 9 to 5 (1980) this weekend... that movie is WHACKED OUT), catch up on Instagram, then Facebook. The first thing I saw on Facebook on this morning's ride was this:
SIX WEEKS?!??!? Aw crap. While Alison and I aren't running the full NJ Marathon, we ARE running the Long Branch Half Marathon (part of the
NJ Marathon weekend), and I am nowhere near where I should be 6 weeks out from a half marathon. My longest run since the marathon has been 6 miles, and that was at the end of January. Two weeks ago, I did a 2 mile run on Monday, 3 miles on Wednesday, and 5 on Saturday. I felt good and was ready to get back into my pre-marathon routine of 3 runs a week and 2 days of cross training, but the ride on that wagon was embarassingly short. Last Monday night came around and I sat on my butt. Tuesday-Friday were the same. Oh and Saturday/Sunday, too. I had a 6 miler scheduled for this weekend that I bailed on for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON WHATSOEVER. Literally. Zero reasons.
So, I guess it's time to get serious. And the best way to do that is to jump right in. The forecast calls for a "wintery mix" (worst term ever) all day and night, but I deserve to be punished. Here goes (again).
I Loathe Myself,
CQ
