inspiration

I was good for the entire weekend.

Instead of running a 5k on Saturday, I did yoga. My neglected chicken arms are still sore. On Sunday I rode my horse on the sunny, windy morning. I stretched for a long time. Then I went with my manfriend to see a movie.

We were trying to decide between Underworld: Awakening and The Grey. It was tough. One is about a lady vampire who fights werewolves. The other is about Liam Neeson being hunted by a wolf. Since Underworld has both wolves and vampires, it seemed like the best bet. We'd get an ample amount of wolf plus a lot more blood than we would have seen from Liam Neeson. More bang for our $13.00 3D movie ticket.

Besides the insane ticket price, Underworld was surprisingly awesome. The simple moves fast, and it's incredibly easy to follow. After some questionable quasi-science about cryogenic freezing the main character, Selene, spends the movie flaunting her badassery. She sprints around in a black corseted ensemble, scowling through her lanky hair and flinging big weapons around. There's lots of shooting, some fun CGI wolf-people, and some really terrific demon-child material.

The 3D effect was lacking and made my head hurt, but it didn't take away from the movie enough for me to care.

After this movie, I can (almost) unabashedly say that I pretty much love these movies. And I have a shameless girl-crush on anyone who can pull off black leather so damn well.

And that got me thinking. If Selene from Underworld can wake up from a state of frozen suspended animation, I can certainly run on a foot that's a tiny bit sore.

So I bought some fancy designer athletic tape and headed out.

 It felt magnificent.

running into a rut

Guh. I just finished plodding 2.5 miles on the treadmill. And I feel like ass.

Earlier this week we had an absurdly nice day in Ohiopyle.

So I decided to make the most of it and do a nice, long run. Six miles in I felt a tight spot on the top of my foot. So I stomped down harder to make sure it was actually there. Ouch. I glared at my shoe it and told it to stop hurting. It didn't listen. When I finished running, I figured soaking my foot in the magical river water would make it better.

Actually, this just made my foot really cold for a few seconds and earned me some weird looks from tourists.

Since then I've been hobbling around on the sides of my feet and trying not to cry while I run. Every time I stretch my toes it hurts. Every time I flex my toes it hurts. When I walk it hurts. When I run, not so much. I've also been bumping into things, driving like an idiot, sleeping poorly, and eating way too much chocolate. The other day I could barely finish a simple tempo workout. And I felt so grumpy and useless that I couldn't even appreciate Montana's fabulous birthday dinner:

The International House of Pancakes isn't as mainstream as you might think. It actually uses pancake batter in its omelets to retaliate against the trendy gluten-free menus at other conformist chain restaurants. 

I started putting together a mental checklist.

• Insufferable attitude toward loved ones? Check.
• Insomnia? Check.
• Inability to run over three miles without wanting to puke? Check.
• Unchecked resentment toward the fit, happy people on STD medication commercials? Check.
• Constant, sharp pain in a specific part of the body? Check. 

There. It's much easier to see in list-form. My foot problem - as well as an issue that probably stems from my uber-flat flapjack feet - is all rolled into overtraining syndrome.

Overtraining is a silly, sneaky thing lots of athletes tend to do to themselves. You follow your super-terrific-awesome ambitious training plan for a few weeks without taking any days off, because it's going to make you a STAR. All of a sudden you don't feel so hot any more. Your most obvious solution is to take one day off, followed by a long run. Then you continue to feel like shite, stop sleeping, and drive negligently. Everything is out of focus. Maybe you start making paperclip cowboys at work.

You've run yourself into a deep, dark rut.

I took yesterday off. Today's treadmill run should have been easy after that, but it wasn't. I felt like death. Then I tuned into my inner-coach. Maybe you need more than one day to recover, said mind-Coach.

I texted real-Coach and told him my situation in long-verse. Blah, blah, blah, whine... and I probably shouldn't be running the 5k this weekend. Coach's response: Yes, I agree. So that's that.

Now I've self-prescribed at least three days of no running. I'll be doing yoga instead, and perhaps dusting off my sad, neglected mountain bike if there's not too much snow. If there's snow, I should probably go stick my foot in it.

So, friends... Don't run too much. Your body will rebel.