Tonight I did not make it over the start line of a race. I’m not injured. I’m not broken. But I didn’t feel I had enough in me to race and feel pleased with the result. So I didn’t run.
Was that a weak and lazy option to take?
Probably. But I’ve run a lot of races recently and pushed myself hard. Tour of Tameside, Round Sheffield, that trip to the Lakes, King of the Hill. Lots of big runs. Work is proving busy and stressful at the moment plus we are dealing with never-ending house buying anxiety. I’m tired and run down. Everything is a bit of a mess.
I was contemplating running up until yesterday. Although I knew I probably wouldn’t after feeling exhausted and achy all day at work. By last night I could barely move thanks to a headache that was on the verge of straying into full-blown migraine territory. My neck and shoulders were seized up and painful. I spent the evening lying down on a hot water bottle, rubbing my head with a menthol stick. I’m completely worn out.
Choosing to look after yourself instead of doing a race isn’t always the weak option. It is the sensible option. Rest is what I need.
Of course I felt guilty for not running. So I went for a little 3 mile plod down the road and back. Nothing exciting. Nothing groundbreaking but it was enough. Maybe I’ll go out tomorrow and go a little bit further. Not far but far enough.
Time to put my feet up, drink a beer and try to not to beat myself up over that did not start.