After talking about my inspirational and fun training partners and how much I look forward to our group training sessions, I flaked this morning because I needed a little more sleep.
(It's amazing what how one glass of wine can affect me with all this working out!)
So, I ended up doing my long run alone, all two hours and 20 minutes of it. The course: Nike run at Mulholland Drive and Encino Hills Road.
That's a lot of time to spend by yourself a couple days after a break-up, even if you've got a sweet iPod workout mix (which, I do, thank you very much).
I noticed two parallel paths on this run, the goal of staying within zone 3 on the heart rate even on hills (no more than 154 bpm), and my ability to have a one-track mind analyzing this failed relationship.
When you run by yourself, you can sometimes be your own worst training partner. "What if...?" "Why did I...?" "Why didn't she...?" "Why couldn't they...?"
Why, why, why. It doesn't matter that it doesn't matter, the questions persist.
Meanwhile, calmly, analytically, I'm scanning my heart rate watch. Ensuring I keep my pulse in check. Doing so clinically, as if I'm two different people. The athlete: Steely. Resolute. Focused. The man: Sad. Remorseful. Dazed.
It's a bizarre feeling straddling both sides of my persona. Ironic, I suppose, that my recovery is literally in motion. Step-by-step. Hill-by-hill. And when I can't run any more, just like in life, I stop, take a break, gather myself, breathe...and start running again.
Today was a "me" day in other ways. It was my last day off before returning to work tomorrow. This break went by so fast, for obvious reasons and because I did actually enjoy most of it. But the holiday break needed to be sent off in style. So, after breakfast at my favorite local spot (Jinky's) and a relaxing yoga session at Black Dog (except for the farter next to me...namanasty!), I went wild. How did I celebrate?
Wait for it...
An hour massage. Impressed? Yeah, I thought so.
There is a lot to be said for getting a massage when you're stressed out, worn down and beat up. I didn't realize how much I needed that massage until I could barely get off the table at the end.
For those of you who are local to Sherman Oaks, Massage Envy on Ventura Boulevard at Cedros Street is the real deal. Ask for Brianna.
And now, after dinner at the Counter with my family and visiting some friends in Santa Monica, I'm settling in for the night.
Wondering how tomorrow will turn out.
325 days and counting.