“No recap this week,” Doug half-asked, half-tsked at me as I sat and pouted about falling off the boulder for what seemed like the 43,874,295th time Saturday morning. “I know…” I started to
sigh say before Tim chimed in with, “no time!” and changed the subject.
While I appreciated Tim’s recognition of how busy I’ve been lately, it’s only part of the story.
Yes, work has gotten increasingly insane over the past few weeks (and will likely stay that way until December)—so insane, in fact, that I’ve resorted to bringing work home with me much more frequently than I’d like to admit (because it makes me feel like a sellout). And yes, I’ve recently come down with a pretty serious case of not-being-able-to-say-no-itis, which means I’ve picked up a lot of extra-curricular activities and now often find myself at home at “normal time” only one or two nights week (which makes me feel like a terrible wife). I know most people say they prefer to be busy than bored, but I have never been one of those people. I don’t mind being busy, but I’d prefer to be “bored” because that would mean I had more time for the fun stuff. And while I’m not necessarily complaining about having such a full schedule these days—because most of what I’ve got going on is stuff I do enjoy—it’s starting to take its toll.
Which brings us to the bigger part of the story: over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself in one of my infamous “funks.” The stress of the drastic increase in my workload and the alarming decrease in “me time” combined with the pressure of trying to be a goddamn grownup and figuring out how to buy a house (yay!/ughhhh) and dealing with various other adulty things that I would much rather ignore (like the jerk who got ahold of my debit card number and treated themselves to some shiny new hunting gear, and other jerk who attempted to drown themselves in shoes and plane tickets using my credit card number—guys, I’m trying to buy a house here, so if you could maybe just not potentially destroy my excellent credit score, that would be peachy) is definitely luring my dark, mopey side out to play despite my best efforts to keep that bitch locked up.
As usual, this has turned into a rambley, round-about way of getting to my point, which is that half marathon training has sort of been put on the back burner for a few weeks now. I’ve stuck to my training plan as much as possible, especially in terms of all the non-running workouts. But it hasn’t been a priority, and I’ve skipped pretty much all of the really important workouts (speed work and long runs).
Fortunately, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel (as they say). Even simply admitting that I’ve been a little depressed out loud to Tim when we got home from bouldering Saturday afternoon seemed to help ease some of the pressure. We’re bringing on a freelancer at work to help with some of the projects that have piled up, maybe as soon as this week. Tim remembered that one of his extended family members is a real estate agent and she’s already been a huge help in our quest for a house. I got new bank cards, so no one else is trying to spend my money now. And when I looked at my training schedule yesterday morning, I realized I accidentally skipped Week 10 when I built my spreadsheet so now I feel like I get a do-over on Week 9 (whooo!).
So things are definitely looking up. Maybe getting back on track this week won’t be so bad, and I won’t actually feel as unfit as I expect to. I’m also willing to bet that getting back into a training groove will help me feel better about everything else…so at least there’s that.