Where Are Those Damn Endorphins?

So I haven’t done so well with All DARE 5K All The Time. I suppose this was a disappointment to some, a relief to others. It’s been a disappointment to me, because I would have preferred to spend the week obsessing about the silly race rather than worrying over the various crises and catastrophes I’ve been dealing with.

Be that as it may, I went running on Thursday. I had not run Tuesday or Wednesday, which I felt sure was the wrong thing to do, but in this life we cannot do everything. We make our choices and we live with the consequences (just a little half-baked philosophy there; it is Lame Post Friday after all). I thought if I just ran Thursday and Friday I could still pull off the 5K without undue stress. And for anther thing, I was in quite the foul mood and thought I could sweat it out if I beat up my body with a good hard run. I’ve done that before. I think it’s the endorphins.

My beef concoction, which I wrote about in yesterday’s blog, was simmering in the crock pot. My fancy headband of sweat-wicking material was hanging on the wooden rack with my other fine washables. My favorite sports bras were clean. I found an XL t-shirt, because I felt the need for something extra roomy. Mr. Incredible. Perfect! A superhero on my shirt to aspire to. I was off.

It was warm. How many times this summer have I missed the days of moderate temperature only to go running in the sweltering heat? I haven’t counted, but once is enough. On the brighter side, it wasn’t super humid. On the darker side, who notices these things at temperatures in the mid to upper 80s?

My legs were immediately upset with me. Was this the result of taking two days off, of working a ten-hour day, or of the stinking heat? It doesn’t matter, I told myself, because none of these conditions would apply Saturday morning. I would run again Friday. I would get a good night’s sleep. It was extremely unlikely that the temperature would be above eighty degrees at 9:15 a.m. I thought longingly of how good Saturday morning would feel. I tried not to think about how much Thursday afternoon sucked.

I ran up the hill on Main Street. Steep. I almost had a VCD attack as I neared the top (that’s vocal chord dysfunction, a breathing problem I sometimes have). I tried to breath more deeply. I refrained from throwing myself down into some grass on the side of the road and bursting into tears. I promised myself I could cry later, as long as I finished the run.

Going downhill was not the sweet relief it sometimes is, but at least it was doable. Soon I was on German Street again. Sweat started to trickle into my eyes. Wasn’t that wicking headband supposed to help that?

I saw a teenager walking along the sidewalk a short distance ahead of me. He was dressed in black with long pants. Two fashion choices I could never make in this heat. He either had very shaggy hair or was wearing one of those knitted caps you sometimes see these days (that’s how you can tell a teenager: they wear woolen hats in the summer and flip flops in the winter) (and before any younger readers accuse me of indulging in age-based stereotypes — I KNOW not all teenagers are like that and people of any age can make uncomfortable fashion choices).

Where was I? Oh yes, crossing German Street not at the corner to avoid catching up with the teenager. It really had less to do with his woolen hat than my desire to not see how long it would take me to catch up to a pedestrian. Then the bastard crossed the street too. I turned down Lansing.

Where oh where was the shade? It’s August, for heavens’ sake. Shouldn’t the sun be a LITTLE lower in the sky? I daresay it is, if only I had some way of measuring it. My run was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and, even worse, I began to realize it was NOT helping my bad mood dissipate. Where are those damn endorphins when you need them?

I crossed a street to enjoy a little shade. Then changed directions again to avoid a couple of young joggers who seemed to be trotting along with no problems whatever. Of course I was very happy for them, but I didn’t think I could smile and wave, as I like to do with pedestrians or fellow runners.

Well, the run was a means to an end, that end being that the DARE 5K will suck less. The horrible mood left me eventually, as horrible moods do. After I showered and made my blog post, I ate some of my Beef/Eggplant Crock Pot Concoction (I just now decided that is the name of the dish, like it?). It was quite delicious. And Friday’s run did not suck. Stay tuned for my coverage of the DARE 5K!