if it's not fun, why do it?

After Chicago, my secret goal was to take out my anger on the XC course in Bend Oregon on December 14th and finish as high up as I could get. I pictured just going animalistic insane on that race. Frothing at the mouth, pass out pain face, arghghghgh.

we're going to need more drool….

As I've whined about enough, my body would not let me come back after Chicago. After ridding myself of the month long rib-rattling cough my new goal was finish without embarrassing myself. I started cramming for the race in the last 2 weeks. I jumped in one speed workout. Which just as you might imagine, wasn't smart. During the last furious 400 chasing the imfamous Lesko Legs I pulled/strained/angered the hell out of my hamstring. My goal changed again: start the damn race. This fall it seems the only thing on my menu is humble pie.

It's sounds so stupid outloud. How I harbored secret goals of drooling all over myself to a top(ish) finish, how many times I tried to start training too hard to fast. Luckily, over the past two months on and off the sidelines, washing down humble pie with Merlot, I actually managed to do some thinking.

My conclusion (again): if it's not fun, why do it? I asked myself a lot this summer if I would be upset if I gave up 'xyz' and still didn't make my time. The answer was always no! I was having fun. The time of my life really, despite my body being broken down. But after the marathon, running wasn't fun. I made it ugly. I let bitterness and anger take the place of fun.

go funning!

I conciously made efforts late this fall to find the fun again. I volunteered at a water stop at Seattle Marathon. I was a running buddy for Girls on the Run. I stopped running with my Garmin and joined the Runner's World Runstreak. I haven't written in my training log since October 13th. And after weeks of this faking it, I made it. I found the fun again.

And as Club XC Nationals got closer, I reminded myself that no one cared about my race except me, and I had control over the thoughts that I thought. I could run this for my team and care about each of them as much or more than myself, run with joy, and enjoy the whole mess. Or I could be a bitter Betty thinking about how I wish I was in better shape, internally sulking around like a selfish baby.

team pride

While I did let bitter sneak in for moments, I overwhelmingly felt joy this weekend. I am proud of my race. I am proud of all the Oiselle Teams' races. We scrapped and fought and had so much dirty, painful, cross country fun! And then we had so much sweaty, packed, dancy fun at the Picky Bars party.

finish line hurt box

I got to meet people in this little Twitter running world that I've always wanted to meet like @mohosjo, @number1miler and @leenbug. And shared a sweet little 70s style bungalow with @jenawinger, @sarahoual and @emilysweats. Hung out with the Oiselle Team family. I'll always remember this weekend as one of the best.

so fly...

bird + bros (sally + granato racing)

until next time, bend