I Am a Slug

This Monday, I got to go for a run again.  I was expecting euphoria.  After two weeks off, this was a long-anticipated event.  And it very nearly killed me.  I was told to only run 40 minutes a day for this first week back.  When I heard that, I was surprised.  I typically run around 50 miles a week.  40 minutes a day would probably average out to around 30.  "I'll probably end up doing more than that." I told myself.  "Running is the best."
Day 1 proved me wrong.  Trudging through those five miles, I suddenly realized how people might sometimes hate running.  My lungs burned.  My sad little legs quivered.  I felt like a middle-aged obese asthmatic.  And when I got home, I consumed unholy amounts of chocolate and holiday-themed desserts.  It was no doubt horrifying to behold.  But, for some reason, as I always do, I found myself back on the roads for the rest of the week.  That's the great thing about running.  It might suck sometimes, but it doesn't suck forever.  And 99.9% of the time when it doesn't feel like Satan jabbing your legs with little pitchforks, it is the best feeling in the world.

End of the Year Breaks

At the end of every season, my coach has me take about two weeks off before starting training for the next season.  The cycle of these breaks typically goes something like this.
First, you have a sense of relief.  You get fourteen whole days to rest and relax before you hit the trails again.  Since these breaks shortly come after Nike Nationals or the Utah state track meet, the first few days give you a chance to recover.  For me, it is the first time in about seven months that I have taken time off.
Next, you begin to get a little antsy.  You hit the gym to try to get rid of some of that excess energy.  You desperately cram homework into the time slots that running used to fill.  You frantically cling to your sanity and pray that you will last until the end of this break.
Finally, in the last few days before you can run again, you become a manic, over-energized crazy.  You dream of feeling the dirt under your feet.  You gaze longingly at your running shoes, and tell yourself that no one would know if you snuck an easy run in just one day early.  You do ab workouts for the first time in months.  Your friends and family start to get concerned about your welfare.  It's not pretty.
Currently, I am just entering the second stage.  Pray for my soul, that I might survive this next week and three days.

NXN

Nike took pretty good care of us

It has been such an honor to be here this weekend.  I got to compete with some of the best athletes in the country, and meet some of the best athletes in the world.  Nike catered to myself and my fellow qualifiers all weekend, and it was amazing.
On Thursday, we arrived and got our gear packs, then went for a run around the campus.  Portland was honestly stunning.  It was completely different from Utah, and I loved being there this weekend.

View on the bus to our hotel

  The running here was absolutely gorgeous-most of my runs were done on trails that went through the surrounding woody areas.  I even had the pleasure of running on the legendary Nike track in the woods.  We later went to the opening ceremonies, where we got to take a selfie with Mo Farah, learn more about what our experience for the weekend would be, and learn a little about our fellow runners.  Oh, and this happened.

What can I say?  Hydration is my life.

I had some of the best teammates anyone could ask for.  My fellow Utahn and good friend Courtney was my roommate, which just made the trip that much better.  I also got to meet many new and incredible people.  They made the whole atmosphere tons of fun.  

The course this year was definitely a huge change from last year's.  It rained for days before the race, so the footing was somewhat less than stable.  Athletes emerged from the course covered in mud and sweat.  There were also several hills that made it more challenging this year.  I didn't have exactly the race I was hoping for, but even being there was a great experience.

Oh, and I got featured by Nike Running.  Not a big deal.

Perhaps the most glorious and proud moment of my entire weekend was when I successfully carried my teammate, Alek, up seven flights of stairs on my back.  It was a huge victory, and an incredibly difficult one.

Black Friday Indeed

Anyone who says running is not mental is dead wrong.  I say this because the willpower it took me to do my post-Thanksgiving and Black Friday workout was tremendous.  I woke at 4 a.m. to get the Black Friday deals, and I was quite possibly the least pleasant human being alive.  There were fuzzy slippers to be worn.  I had gained approximately 527 pounds at dinner the previous day.  There was still a tin full of glorious pumpkin that promised me joy and whipped cream bliss in my fridge, but I found myself lacing up my Nikes and heading up to the track anyway.  Though if we're being honest here, it was mostly so I could justify eating more pie later.  But still.  It has to count for something.
This workout began with me sadly accepting that I wouldn't be able to run in Park City, and trying to figure out where to do my warmup, since I almost never run in my hometown.  Then began the sad trudging that almost passed for a jog along the rail trail.  Mud stuck to my shoes, turning them into bricks of failed potential and sadness that made a gross *shluck* noise every time I took a step.  I seriously contemplated driving home after the warmup, making justifications as I drew nearer and nearer to the track.  By some miracle, I gritted my teeth, tightened my braids, and walked up to lane one.

Accurate picture of how I felt after my warmup

The first 1000m interval did not go at all as I'd hoped.  I blamed it on my compression socks, and because I was too lazy to take them off, I peeled them off of my calves and scrunched them up around my ankles.  It's called fashion, look it up.  I was glistening with sweat at this point, and my headphones were bouncing with every step, which annoyed me far more than it should've.  The pie was calling.  I ran the second interval, and it didn't feel any more pleasant.  My resolve was weakening.  "Just do one more," the little devil on my shoulder said.  "Three is more than enough.  Besides, there's pie."  I was nodding along with him up until the little angel on my other shoulder backhanded me and yelled, "Snap out of it!  You'll do these intervals.  You'll do them and like them."

Here we have an interesting specimen of a post-workout selfie

And do them I did.  I even had enough energy left after to take a post-workout selfie for this blog.  And go over to J-Cub's house and play Halo with him then beat him up when he shot me with a rocket launcher.  You are capable of so much more than you think.  Especially when you are fueled with rage because your boyfriend has been screen-cheating.