Failure of Priority

Review of the past two weeks (post the 16-mile run):



Monday (Aug.31) - 4 miles

Tuesday (Sept.1) - off

Wednesday (Sept.2) - 6 miles

Thursday (Sept.3) - 1 lap around the lake & core-strength training class at gym

Friday (Sept.4) - 5 miles

Saturday (Sept. 5) - off

Sunday (Sept.6) - 10 miles

Monday (Sept.7) - Labor Day, Jason's (son) 7th Birthday, ate a lot, exercised none

Tuesday (Sept.8) - 1st Day of School, 4 miles

Wednesday (Sept.9) - Got flu, puked in front of students at school, exercised none

Thursday (Sept.10) - Still sick, exercised none

Friday (Sept.11) - Still sick, exercised none

Saturday (Sept.12) - 5 miles



Which brings us to today, Sunday September 13th. This weekend I was scheduled to run 18 miles. Once again, I could not do it with Team in Training because Ariana (3-year old daughter) had her very first soccer practice and it is still physically impossible to be in two places at once.



On the first day of school, while at my daily ritual Starbucks stop, I ran into my "former trainer/friend." I told him how I was going to have to run the 18 miles on my own, and he tentatively agreed to do all or part of the run with me. By the end of the week we determined that we were going to do the run on Sunday morning, I would do the first 8 miles on my own and that he would pick up the last 10 with me. Now, I have done a lot of hard work on my own since he was most recently shunned, and this run should have been strategically used by me to show off my quicker pace and increased endurance. Basically, for the first time ever, I had the chance to beat him at something (other than Jeopardy). A golden opportunity squandered.



Last night, Saturday, I attended a DC United soccer game. Well, not just the game. I went to the pre-game tailgate, where I behaved myself and drank orange gatorade while everyone else was drinking beer. Then we went inside the stadium. It all went downhill from there. I switched from gatorade to liquor and then the game was over (DC United lost). If I had the sense to go home and go to bed at that moment, all would have been well. But, I didn't. I drank more. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid.

I woke up at 5:50 this morning to start the first 8 miles. Um, I was still drunk. I went back to sleep. I got back up at 7:30 am, now suffering from an acute hangover. I got ready and drove out to the trail to meet my trainer. At this point I planned to just run the 10 miles with him and make up the 18 later. We started, slowly, painfully. Each step jarred the remaining liquid contents in my stomach. It was bad. I quit 1.5 miles into the run. I couldn't even run back. We had to walk the mile and half back. Since the day was already a huge loss, I decided I might as well enjoy the nice weather...so nachos and frozen margaritas.

Clearly this run was a failure of priority. As my now restored friend/trainer said, "a complete disregard for the fact that I am training for a marathon." He was being nice. Not only did I miss the window of opportunity to physically show him up, I wasted his time.

Worst of all, though, is that this weekend was the first time since I began this whole process that I cannot even claim to have quit, I didn't even try.