Sometimes I tend to bite off more than I can chew. And by sometimes, I mean always. I set these really big, seemingly unattainable goals for myself, and then feel really let down when I don’t accomplish them.
For example, I got my first B in 5th grade. It was a B+ actually, but I digress. So I got this B, I cried my eyes out and felt like my whole academic career was ruined because I could not longer say that I had never gotten a B in my entire life. I had this dream that I would go all the way through college with all A’s and be a successful teacher (or pop singer, whichever came first.)
Later on, I wanted to be good at sports. I pushed myself so hard, practicing until the sun when down in my backyard with my sister or even with myself, throwing the ball as high as I could and trying to catch it as a pop fly. I was not good. I got in the face a lot, and I’m sure my parents were looking out the kitchen window, watching me with very concerned looks on their faces (or maybe laughing, but then some serious concerned looks). But I wanted to make the junior high team so badly. I wanted to impress people (ehem, my dad) and I wanted to keep my same friends, who all happened to be athletic.
I didn’t make the team. I did get to be manager though, later on, when the other manager quit. I was devastated. I knew I wasn’t good, but I somehow formed it in my head that I would make the team, without a doubt.
This is something that I thought I would eventually grow out of, but as of late I have realized I haven’t. Right now, I’m feeling overwhelmed with trying to keep up with the husband on marathon training. I don’t have a race to train for, but wanted to keep up at least a little bit, and had a training plan set for an October half marathon. A speedy one at that. At this point, I haven’t gone farther than 8 miles in any of my training runs, and that was more than a month ago. Robert gets up on Thursdays at 4 A.M., runs 14 miles and then goes to work before I’ve even pulled my ass out of bed to pee. This makes me feel lazy, and ilke I’ve once again failed at a goal.
So now, I have a new goal. I got the idea from Danica actually. I want to do 30 days of 3 miles or more. I can walk 3 miles, run 3 miles, jog 3 miles, or even elliptical or bike for 3 miles. It can be as hard or as easy as I want, but I have to get it done. Some days I’ll do more, but never less than 3. This will get my body moving, give me time to enjoy strength training and other activities, and will give me a goal that I won’t ever have to beat myself up over. Because if I start feeling down, I can just go for a walk! So there you have it. Every day from today until August 23, this will be my goal. By then, maybe the weather will be nicer, and I can get back my desire to do long runs.
What I’m starting to realize (or at least thought about for 40 minutes on the treadmill tonight) is that even though I’m not running 10 miles at a time right now, at race pace and totally feeling awesome about it, I am working out at least 4 days a week at the gym, strength training and eating foods that are good for me. I’m working hard, and that should be enough. I set these training plans and goals because I feel like I would be lost without them, and in a way that’s true. But I don’t have to run 10 miles in the miserable heat just because my husband is. He won’t love me any less if I choose do to the bike that day instead. And I shouldn’t love myself any less for it either.