Scott Freeman

The Perverse Pursuit of Bad Days

Last Sunday I sat out to conquer a new distance and overcome the aforementioned mental hurdle of five miles. I had finally worked up to that milestone that I had been preparing for.
I failed.
I had to quit less than two miles into my run. I felt horrible.
It seemed that every bone and muscle in my legs had organized and staged a walk-out.
For the first time since I began running I was unable to fulfill my intended goal for the day.
Needless to say I was pretty down for the rest of the day. I didn’t know if I had sustained an injury that would sideline me for a while or whether or not it was just a blip on the training radar.
I had to wait until last Tuesday to find out.
Hesitantly, I sat out to do 3.5 miles on Tuesday.
Slowly.
Luckily, I finished with no problems.
I made it through the week and this past Sunday I attempted 5 miles again.
This time I did it. Fairly easily I might add.
Today, however, was a different story. 3.5 miles seemed an almost insurmountable goal.
My legs weren’t cooperating again. Yet somehow I lumbered my way through it.
My pace was snail-like. But I did it.
One thing I am learning is that I feel better on the bad days.
I love the feeling that results when my body is rebelling but I still manage to complete the task.
I feel that I have truly achieved something.
Pleasure in pain?
Go figure.

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