If you’re training for a half-marathon 12 miles is a long run. If you’re running Boston in 2 weeks 12 miles means you’re in taper mode. If you’re training for a marathon that’s more than 2 weeks away then 12 miles is probably a midweek run but if you’re me, 12 miles is the combined total mileage that you’ve run in the last 2 weeks. That’s right, in the last 2 weeks I’ve run exactly 12 miles. I probably deserve an award or something. During the past 2 weeks I’ve wondered why I’m not getting any faster and why my fitness is not improving like it should. I’ve complained about gaining a few pounds and acted like I couldn’t figure out what might have caused it.
The funny thing is that my lack of mileage these past 2 weeks hasn’t been due to a lack of motivation. Life just keeps getting in the way and I’ve been genuinely frustrated at being unable to find the time to run. These past two weeks I’ve been invited to family dinners, I’ve had to work late, I’ve been invited to bachelor parties, I’ve committed to dinner plans with friends and on my free nights I’ve watched mother nature step in with harsh wind and snow storms. I know, I know, cry me a river. I’m so popular that I don’t have the time to run in all those pairs of free shoes that I’ve been given. Woe is me. I’m sure you’re all feeling desperately sorry for me, but that’s not my intent. No, the intent of this post is to put everyone on notice.
If you want to spend time with me in the evening then you’d better schedule it after my run. You want me to help you with something on Saturday? Not until after my run. You want me to make an appearance at your party? Don’t schedule it during one of my runs. From now on, running takes priority over all extracurricular events and I’m not working late on nights that I have a run planned either. I’m a banker for crying out loud, since when did bankers EVER work late? Not since they needed to get their runs in, that’s when.
This goes for my family too. You need Daddy to fix that toy that you broke? Not until after my run. You need a ride to the hospital because you broke your arm falling off something you shouldn’t have been standing on in the first place? Call an ambulance, Daddy has to run. You need your husband to fix the toilet that won’t stop running? Not until after he stops running. You can’t control your raw, animalistic desires and want to rip off your husband’s clothes the second he gets home from work? . . . I guess my run can wait an extra 3 minutes. I wouldn’t want to seem obsessive about this whole ‘running takes priority’ thing.