Actually, I’m not going into work today, but I just like the way it sounded. While being home with my angelic children is a labor of love, it is definitely a form of work.
Can I say how awesome my dinner last night was? Raw kale salad with nuts and seeds, guacamole, cranberries, and chicken. One great thing I’ve discovered from following other bloggers is how amazing decked-out salads can be. For whatever reason, Erik believes you could not or should not eat raw kale. He’s crazy.
This morning was another fail of myself as training partner. I was supposed to run 7 with friends this morning, but I couldn’t get myself up. I had a feeling last night that I shouldn’t even commit to it, but I can be an optimist about these things. However, knowing it was colder and there was potential for snow, the idea of a 5:30 am run was abhorrent to me. As much as I hate the treadmill, Jenny’s set up with the iPad makes it quite alluring. So running outside in the cold and dark or running in the warmth while watching Orphan Black later today. Yeah, Orphan Black is going to win that one. At least for an easy run day.
Speaking of which, did anyone catch that the store Hot Topic (I can’t believe that store is still around) is going to come out with a line of Orphan Black-inspired clothing? My friend indicated the ridiculous irony of literally dressing like a clone.
Yesterday’s run was a tempo run. My coach, Liz, saw my blog post and granted me the day as an easy run, but it was too late. Waah. I had trouble hitting the actual tempo pace, and resigned myself to a limbo pace in between marathon and tempo. I figured it was better than nothing. My legs were HEAVY.
When I checked in with Jen, she said she did ok, although it was far from enjoyable. That made me think about how training with someone can be great, but how it can also be tricky–especially if you grew up with the parents I did. Ha. When you’re training with someone else, it’s easy to compare how you thought the run went, how you feel, if you hit paces, etc. That’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, you have someone who knows how you’re feeling, someone to kvetch/conspire/check in with. On the other hand, you have a point of comparison. Being Korean, I grew up (very stereotypically) with my parents constantly comparing me to others: my siblings, family friends, community members. It was a parade of measuring sticks that I often fell short of. While that can be motivational, it also messes with your head.
Because Jen and I are relatively evenly matched, it sets me up to want to compare myself to her. She’s been having an easier time with the speed workouts and feeling strong after them. And remember this picture from last weekend? That would be her running in front of me. Because she’s faster. *shakes fist and wipes tear away*
It’s made me think about running overall, though. It’s always funny when I come back from a race and my kids ask me if I won. I’m nowhere near the front and never in the top 10 of my age group or anything, yet what motivates me to keep running? What’s the point if you’re not going to win? And I realize part of my love of running is that it’s so individual. It’s about your PR and your feeling about a run. 40,000 people don’t line up for the Chicago Marathon because they think they’re going to win it. They do it to master something within themselves, to push themselves and see what they are capable of, to run for those who can’t, to run in memory. As many runners there are, there are an equal number of reasons people run. And if you’re constantly comparing yourself to others, you’re about to be disappointed in alot of ways.
And this is true for everything right? Comparing yourself to others in parenting, running, in being a family member, professor, whatever. We have to all find our own path and what works best for us may not be best for others, and vice versa.
With that said, I’m going to smoke Jen in April’s marathon. HA. Actually, I need to. She’s got 5 minutes on me for qualifying time (she’s older, haha).
Happy Friday folks. Go out and conquer the world! Or take a nap.