BOTTOM OF A ROCK UNDERWATER

I have to admit, as a runner, I'VE HIT ROCK BOTTOM!  I can't remember my last real run, but I remember the exact day, the exact moment when I realized maybe running isn't my thing.  June 6, 2012.  1 second from going on my habitual lunch time run, 1 month after the Orange County Marathon.    I said "Fuck it.  I'm eating lunch."  Why?  I'm guessing it's because I trained so hard to reach a goal time and I missed it by 4 mins.

June 6, 2012. 1 Day after the Transit o' Venus.

June 6, 2012. 15 days after the Infamous Pinhole Eclipse of 2012

After the race, talking to my friends, I realized I started off too fast.  for 17 miles I was on pace for a 3:40!  But the wheels came off.  All the nagging injuries I chose to ignore came back with a vengeance.   Oh, I'm not using that as an excuse, because I've run marathons on a broken toe, a 50 miler on stress fracture, yadda yadda.  I typically grit and bear it, but that day was different.

The strained achilles tendon that took me out for 3 weeks didn't help 

I trained so hard, pouring my heart and soul into it.  So much so, that missing my goal killed my spirit.  I was happy for my buddy, who gave me a ride to the event, for HIS SUB-4.  He started off running a 5 HOUR pace and he still kicked my ass!  On the surface, I convinced myself that, no worries, it gives me a push for the next race.

May 6, 2012.  Post Race Meal... AWWW HELLS YEAH!

But, I could not kid myself, I was fried.  Mentally, physically, mentally, mentally... It took 1 month for me to actually say, "FUCK IT."  Since that day, my exercise regime has spun downward and downward.  The good thing?  I've got a ton of free time!  I feel like I'm kicking ass at work and I see my kids when they wake up!  I'm eating lunch with my friends, and my Saturdays have been nice and lazy.

TICK TOCK LOOK AT ALL THIS GLORIOUS TIME!! *Urgh*

So, why do I think like this is ROCK BOTTOM?  Once a runner, always a runner? Well,  I've gained 13lbs.  My short shorts have really become short short short briefs.  I feel like shit.  Like a meth addict, you can't stop cold turkey with your addiction.  Unlike a meth addict, who given the chance will kill a raging gorilla for that next hit, I've spiraled to the point where I don't even WANT to run because it so hard to get back.  I feel like I've dropped so low that I can't see the light from this well.

Why and I pouring this out?  I want to log in my blog (because who the fuck would be reading this incoherent drivel anyways?) and yell to the hurricane that is the internets that I NEED TO GET BACK AT IT!

Like a lovestruck brokenhearted teenage little girl who feels like the world always  ENDING...

It started last Tuesday.  I ran a 10k.  Sure it took an hour, but hell it was outside.  Yesterday, I ran a mile on the treadmill.  Today, I'm going to push for a 5k.

I'm supposed to run the SF marathon on Sunday, but though I will be in the area for work, I'm going to spend the day running on my own.  I just don't want to end with a 5+ hour marathon.  I just need to get outta this funk.

Well, hell.. enough chatting, I've got to go run. !!

 Play me off, Johnny!