On Wussing Out.

So, tomorrow is the Oxford Half Marathon, which I registered for.

I registered right after they released the course information.  For those who had run the earlier courses, which kept you mostly out of the city, I was thrilled.  If you go to the course info right now it pretty much outlines my absolute favourite areas of the city to run.  The whole idea of people blocking off said areas for me to run through excited me.  It would be like the Rome Marathon all over again. (PS – To anyone reading who didn’t get into London – RUN ROME)

I had meant to get around to training for it.  It’s not like I’m just lazying about.  I’m still bike commuting, pole fitnessing (I can do this now!), and eating seasonal like a hippie.

But I wasn’t putting in the distance training.

See, here’s the deal: YOU HAVE TO DO THE TRAINING.  I know this.  I’ve been running for a long time, the mantra is etched into my brain.

But yet, I didn’t.

I wish I could tell you it was because I was sick.  Or I broke something.  Or I was jet setting across the world with all my billionaire friends and the personal trainer was too busy with Beyonce.

But I don’t have a good reason.

I just didn’t do it.

If I go tomorrow I know I’d be fine through the 10k point.  Likely a bit further.  But, just like with a marathon, there is a wall.  For me it’s 9 miles.  I would be 4 stinking miles from the end and my legs would be in this conversation with my brain like so:

Legs: “Hey, um, brain?”

Brain: “Yeah?”

Legs: “Um, we haven’t done this in awhile.  Can we stop?”

Brain: “No.”

Legs: “We disagree with your assessment, we’re going to stop now.”

Brain: “It’s not a good idea, guys.  We’re 4 miles from the end.”

Legs: “Shutting down now.”

Brain: “What? No…”

Legs: “Yeah, here we go… from the knees…”

Brain: “Noooooo!”

(After writing this I’m glad my legs cannot act independently of me.  They would totally do this.  I know it.  Dang you, legs.)

So, long story longer I’ve decided not to run the Oxford Half Marathon.  This, of course, drags up all sorts of emotions.  It’s odd because I go from relief to wanting to cry.  It’s like I’m doing what I know is right for me while disappointing myself at the exact same time.

Instead, I’m going to start my London Marathon distance training.

And, like a good trainee, I’m starting small and building up so I can be strong come April.

I’ll be taking a route away from the fanfare, and I’ll be rocking my jersey from the National Autistic Society, who I will be supporting along with the WWF come April.

But, yeah, I feel like I’m wussing out.