Ahhhhhh I am so looking forward to this week. I have one day of work tomorrow, then I am off to Canyon Lake to spend a week in the boonies. Bare minimum work stress, lots, and I mean lots of dogs, and lots of visits to the lake.
This will also allow me to do those things that have been put on the back burner lately - books I want to read, running, horseback riding, blogging, and general relaxation.
Yeah, I've got some high relaxation ambitions. I'll be turbo-relaxing. Though I'll probably slash 90% of the above. But then, that's what vacation is all about. No schedules, obligations, nothing. Looking forward to it.
I'll miss the cats, though. I've begun packing for the week, and they know that when the suitcase comes out I leave very soon after. Oliver just uncharacteristically jumped up and curled up into my lap with a forlorn meow. Poor guy... Little does he realize I've found the perfect cat-sitters! My neighbors (who love animals) have kindly offered to watch over them for the week. I will have peace of mind.
Vacation ho! Something like that.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Running and Such
Back in high school I ran cross country and track. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it at the time. I hate to admit it, but I really only did it because my brother convinced me. I improved as I ran more, but certainly didn't reach a point that I would call my best.
My brother graduated the next year, so I dropped it, feeling a bit intimidated.
At that time, I lacked what is known as "mental toughness," which is something that athletic coaches just love to see in their athletes. They demand it, in fact.
I remember my running back then, and how it always felt like I was always either way ahead of myself and unbalanced or way behind myself and just "tracking."
The most unpleasant and least efficient (obviously) was when I would get into that tracking state of running. I remember how it was - it was as though I was almost running in place, and fear of stepping forward (for some reason or another). It could be likened to that feeling of when your foot is asleep and are scared it will be excruciating if you move it. But then when you do, you realized you were worried for nothing.
This afternoon I had a wonderful run at Memorial Park on the mountain biking trails. I
realized some way down the trail that I never track anymore on my runs (which I now enjoy quite a bit). I always have a sense of forwardness, while still keeping my balance. This also has kept me from re-injuring myself, for when I even get close to that tracking state I can feel my leg becoming strained.
All it took was taking steps forward, with the intention of moving forward. I'm not necessarily expending more energy nor am I even putting myself through any mental anguish. It was just a matter of taking that first forward step. And from that first step moving on, no one can accuse me of lacking mental toughness.
Sometimes, though, it is so hard to take that step. Like moving your the foot that has fallen asleep that first time. Your mind is screaming "no! no!" But somewhere inside you, you know that you can do it. Once you begin your forward momentum, the rewards are continuously renewing themselves.
I remember once seeing one of the best cross country runners in high school being quoted as saying committing to running has taught her a lot of what she knows about life. I didn't understand it at the time, but now that I am committed to running I know exactly what she means.
My brother graduated the next year, so I dropped it, feeling a bit intimidated.
At that time, I lacked what is known as "mental toughness," which is something that athletic coaches just love to see in their athletes. They demand it, in fact.
I remember my running back then, and how it always felt like I was always either way ahead of myself and unbalanced or way behind myself and just "tracking."
The most unpleasant and least efficient (obviously) was when I would get into that tracking state of running. I remember how it was - it was as though I was almost running in place, and fear of stepping forward (for some reason or another). It could be likened to that feeling of when your foot is asleep and are scared it will be excruciating if you move it. But then when you do, you realized you were worried for nothing.
This afternoon I had a wonderful run at Memorial Park on the mountain biking trails. I
realized some way down the trail that I never track anymore on my runs (which I now enjoy quite a bit). I always have a sense of forwardness, while still keeping my balance. This also has kept me from re-injuring myself, for when I even get close to that tracking state I can feel my leg becoming strained.All it took was taking steps forward, with the intention of moving forward. I'm not necessarily expending more energy nor am I even putting myself through any mental anguish. It was just a matter of taking that first forward step. And from that first step moving on, no one can accuse me of lacking mental toughness.
Sometimes, though, it is so hard to take that step. Like moving your the foot that has fallen asleep that first time. Your mind is screaming "no! no!" But somewhere inside you, you know that you can do it. Once you begin your forward momentum, the rewards are continuously renewing themselves.
I remember once seeing one of the best cross country runners in high school being quoted as saying committing to running has taught her a lot of what she knows about life. I didn't understand it at the time, but now that I am committed to running I know exactly what she means.
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