Last Saturday my training plan called for 18 miles. I planned to tackle a six mile loop three times. I’d done that loop before…when my training plan called for six miles.
But then life happened.
Friday night our electricity went off. Twice. Our alarm system beeped loudly in protest. Twice. I had a hard time going back to sleep. I awoke Saturday feeling groggy. I dragged myself out the door and drove to the six mile loop.
I did the loop.
The wind was brutal. Even though there were sidewalks, the traffic was so heavy and swift, I couldn’t hear my Ipad (or hear myself think) and my hat kept blowing off. Add to that, construction on a very busy intersection made things unsafe. I walked a lot of it.
I was so tired, all I could think about was a nap. I got in my car and headed to the nearest Starbucks for some much needed and rarely consumed caffeine. Latte in hand, I called my friend and training partner, Lynn, to tell her how things were going or, more accurately, not going. I told her I thought I’d just go to the gym and finish my mileage there. While not ideal, we agreed mileage on a treadmill and eliptical was better than no mileage at all.
Once at the gym I toggled between those two machines until I was finally, blessedly finished. And I was finished in more ways than one. The fatigue from not getting enough sleep was overwhelming. I don’t yet have my on-course nutrition dialed in and I was famished. My gym is located next to a…wait for it…Burger Republic. There were diners eating outside and it took iron will and fear of embarrassment to not grab a burger off of someone’s plate and devour it.
Now that a few days have passed, I’m glad I did “whatever it took” for me to complete the mileage. I’ve noticed that throughout training there have been many times I wanted to quit. But I’ve learned that my desire to finish has to be only a little bit stronger than my desire to throw in the towel.