3 Miles Before Coffee

It took everything I had in me to drag my lazy arse out of bed shortly after sunrise and put in a few miles this morning. I think it’s indicative of my general fatigue and poor dietary choices lately (Sunday, for example, consisted of a Big Mac and pizza. Yeah. Gross, lazy eating.)

There’s something about running first thing in the morning – before breakfast, before coffee, before checking my email – that puts me in a mental space to tackle the day positively. At the absolute peak of my fitness about 14 months ago, I was regularly putting in 5 miles or more before sunrise, and I was the most productive and positive at work than I’ve ever been. It’s a place that I absolutely need to get back to, and with my racing intentions for 2015 almost solidified, it will not only be necessary, it will be consistent. Furthermore, I’m hoping that it will be habit forming, to the point that if there are days when I’m not up and giving it my best effort, I will feel unbalanced.

As for this morning’s specifics, it was a pleasant enough run once I was out and moving. It took me a good half mile or so to warm up, but the air was cool and the sun was shining and 3 miles were put behind me in a reasonable amount of time.

A friend of mine has invited me to join her and her friend for 10 miles on Thanksgiving morning. Considering how gluttonous the rest of that day is likely to be, I am very inclined to accept.

I Am Not Prepared

It’s been 8 days since my last race, and I have 1 week and 6 days until my next and final race of 2014.

To quote Illidan Stormrage, I am not prepared.

The thing that I didn’t anticipate when I set the goal of running 12 half marathons in 12 months was how I would feel by the time I hit double digits. I was tired after race #10. Now, after race #11, I’m exhausted. While I know my fitness is at an all-time high, my endurance is flagging because of rest periods between races that are being cut short simply because of scheduling. I haven’t run in 8 days, and I’ve not exactly been very aligned with my nutritional requirements either.

Tomorrow morning I will definitely go for a run. I plan on 3 easy miles to get my body moving again and my mind thinking about the next race. It’s particularly tough because it’s a holiday week here in the US, and one that is generally associated with dietary gluttony. And I really, really like to eat. A lot. Often. *shrug*

The emotional toll I think is the thing I least expected. It’s been such an amazing year of traveling for running that to be here today, with just one more race and one more destination ahead of me…well, I’m just not entirely sure how to feel about it. I’m quite sure that after I’ve crossed that finish line on December 7th, I will feel all kinds of things.

For now, I need to get my head back in the game, press on with one more surge to race day, and run San Antonio like I mean it.

Bacon & Beer

One lazy man with a soft spot for bacon and beer wrestling with his attitude.

That basically sums up the entirety of my existence.

It’s not that I have just one attitude; I don’t, I have many. And it’s not that they’re all bad either; most of them aren’t. But some are. I can be a really lazy bastard. I can be really unhealthy. I can drink too much. I can eat too much of the wrong thing. I can give up on happiness too easily.

It’s those kinds of wrestling matches that led me to the state I found myself in in early 2010. Overweight, lethargic, inactive, and unhappy. I was in a dingy hotel room in some filthy suburb of Paris on a business trip that had been nothing but problematic. I’d eaten bad French pizza almost every day, and snacked on Kinder chocolate and Orangina soda in between. I’d been chain smoking like my life depended on it, and I was seriously sleep deprived. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it was less of a pretty feeling.

Two days before I left Paris I was in my hotel room having worked a 19 hour day in a cold, dry datacenter. I had taken a quick shower before intending to catch a few hours sleep. As I stepped out of the bathroom with the ludicrously small towel stretching under the strain of my rotund girth, I caught a glimpse of my side profile in the full length mirror.

And I was horrified. I was disgusted. I was upset. I was angry. For the first time, it brought me to tears. I was a skinny weed when I was a kid; how on earth did I let this happen? I vowed there and then that as soon as I got back home, things would change.

I’d said that before, of course. But this time I meant it. This time, I stuck with it. And that’s where my journey began.

That was almost 5 years ago at the time of writing this. In those five years up until today I’ve changed my eating habits, lost weight, learned to run, been through a divorce, spent countless hours with a psychological therapist, gained my US citizenship (I’m British by birth), and made better decisions that have led to a happier me. Today I stand at a reasonable 175 lbs, down from 216 lbs at my heaviest, and slightly up from my lowest of 163 lbs.

As you’ll see on my ‘Races‘ page, I’ve got a few races of various lengths under my belt now. At the end of 2013 I had a crazy idea. “What if”, I thought, “I did 12 half marathons in 12 months. Could I do that?” And so, to prove something to myself about my ability to persevere on long term goals, I did. And I write this today, 4 days after completing my 11th half marathon of 2014, wishing that I’d starting writing about this journey a long time ago.

I have one half marathon left until I complete the goal I had set a year ago, and already I am thinking longer, harder, bigger, and more challenging next year and the years beyond. This humble blog is where I will chronicle the journey from here on. I’ll have good days and bad days, I’ll be happy and sad, and I’ll have those moments where all I will seem to do is whine and complain and rationalize and find excuses to skip the workout and eat bacon and drink beer instead. My hope is that I’ll gain some personal accountability and be able to shut that down with six simple words.

“Shut the f*** up and run.”

Peace,

James