Giving up guilt
It would be fair to say that running isn’t the biggest thing in my life. That would be work; always was, always is and always will. I believe that’s part of the reason my NZ experience was so negative; the hole-in-my-soul that was filled with work wasn’t satisfied with the lacklustre job I wound up falling into.
What that means is when I have a job I’m into – such as I do now – it’s all consuming. I never realised it till recently, but it’s what keeps me awake at night now – not from stress, but from pure fascination. Learning new things, applying them in a work situation and then seeing the success sprout before passing it onto others.
That’s what rocks my world.
Running, less so. But not for the reason I think.
The other half of my hole-in-the-soul
When I’m not working, I feel like I am in storage. Waiting for the workday to come around. To be fair, I learnt a long time ago not to burn myself out. Because it makes me bad at work. So, I generally take my weekends and bank holidays. But I don’t do much. Like an actor between gigs, I ‘rest’.
But when I’m not at work, that’s when the gremlins strike. At work, I’m fully distracted by the problems of the day. When I’m not at work, I’m not distracted. And that’s when I hear the wind whistling through the hole in my sole and the horrible nattering of the gremlins (or the demon of doubt).
Essentially, I talk myself out of doing things constructive. I let my fears talk me out of doing active stuff and I sit like a big sullen lump in the corner, wondering why I’m not achieving my goals.
Accepting who I am
I’ve talked before about how I get stuck like a skipping needle on a record, glitched on the idea that good is not good enough and that I talk myself into not doing anything because I can’t do the perfect thing. Well, I’m two weeks away from the Connemarathon. And I accept that I am going to drop down to the half-marathon.
As I explained in the last post, I’ve been anguished about not running. But there’s good reasons why – actually really good reasons. But because I’ve got the idea that good-is-the-enemy-of-perfection, I’m still beating myself up. To be fair, partly that’s because I always beat myself up – it’s a bad habit I’m trying to get out of.
What does it mean?
It means that although I’ve not given up completely, I’m being realistic. My slog to marathon glory is nowhere near my top priority now. That means I’m accepting my choice – that work and other items are more important to me. Perhaps my marathon obsession was a flash in the pan – but I’ve done 7 marathons, so that’s a good record. If I never did another one, I think I can stand by that record.
In the meantime, I’m going to run when the mood takes me. And let’s leave it at that.
Keep on Going – at your own pace