Face = Slapped



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