I hereby declare this funk.  Over.  Kim and I ran 6 miles a few weeks ago.  I thought it was over, because I ran it.  Then I stopped running again.  I stayed up late, ate bad food.  Hung out with friends and didn’t one time lay out workout clothes.

So, my coach just stayed away.  Sent me a plan.  But not a lot of talk about it.  Just let me dangle.

This week, I missed the spin class I was supposed to go to.  Slept through the alarm.  The next day, 4 miles was on the plan.  Texted Kim and she promised to come over at 5:30am and not leave until I came out of the house.  She got there, and I got up, and we started walking to our mile start. 

…and the first song that comes on my playist is “Hit the Road Jack”, which is my coach’s ring tone.  Started running.  Bohemian Rhapsody comes on.  Sexy Bitch.  Reminders of Ali & S on Twitter.  I keep running and realized something.

In one year, I’ve run 5 half marathons and 2 marathons.  I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I worked damned hard for those.  I have unfinished business with the marathon, but had been in this “You’re a loser” funk for so long, I never thought I would conquer it.

So.  My first marathon at age 50.  All those races.  Just look at what we’ve done.  And as I was running, my legs woke up to the fact that we have more work to do.

Funk. Over.

5 thoughts on “Anatomy of a Funk

  1. A-effing-men, you and me both!

    Onward, Upaward, c’mon blow this joint, there’s a horizon to chase!

    Let’s Roll!


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