I didn’t run for 9 days before yesterday.

This unexpected long streak came about for a variety of reasons. The first day (the Sunday before last), I thought I might be catching a cold, and I wanted to spend extra time with family. Monday, I traveled for work and ended up more tired than I thought I’d be at the end of the day, with a day of flights and then a car trip at the end. And daylight saving time ending certainly did not help.

Tuesday, I was tired already from a poor night’s sleep Monday night (hotel life!), and couldn’t drag myself to the hotel workout room.

Wednesday, I woke up devastated, after tossing and turning and unable to quell the fear, rage, and frustration roiling inside of me as I faced what had really happened in this country. And I lost all interest in running. My resting heart rate is in the high 60s, and has been for two weeks, even with 9 days off.

I finally stopped making excuses or flat out being lazy yesterday, and ran 4.5 miles on the Lakewalk. My legs felt like lead weights. My form sucked. I know there’s no way I’ll be able to do much speed work. I’ve probably screwed myself out of a chance to break 30 minutes in my 5K next week. I’ve gained at least a couple pounds, probably more like 5. I squandered some of the last warm days I’ll see for months, sitting inside watching television and feeling dead inside. But I’m back running, and it felt good.

I’m not quite ready to take running more than a day at a time. Planning for another ultra seems mentally impossible; let alone actually training for one is more than I can handle right now. I know I’ll adjust to the short days and the cold weather (once it comes), and I know I’ll keep finding ways to meaningfully resist the monstrously corrupt government that’s coming to power in the US in a few months. One step at a time.