I ran a really shitty marathon this weekend. I’m not even sure I was running at the end. It was so bad I didn’t even think I had races that bad anymore — at least not in the last two years, not since this whole getting fast thing.
It was good for a bit over half. Then things got ugly and rough and I started to slip off pace. And, the thing was, I just didn’t have any fight. People talk about races being all about ‘learning to suffer,’ but to me they’re really about learning to fight for every goddamn step. And when it was time to fight and focus on Sunday, I didn’t. Then, I tried to hang in there for a bit until I wasn’t even really hanging on at all anymore, and I basically quit. I only finished because that was the fastest way back to the car, though at some point when you’re shuffling and throwing up does that even count?
I’ve been wallowing and off the internet most of the last few days, which hasn’t been hard since I’m basically just laying on the couch, sleeping, and crying randomly. I started sobbing today while trainering and watching (again) the pilot for Sports Night. Then, that lasted for three episodes, all of which I had seen before.
The thing that’s been eating at me is what if I’ve just been faking it for two years, what if this kind of return to being a basket case was inevitable, what if I’m not as good as I thought I was becoming, what if all the things I’ve been saying and doing were just bullshit and I’m full of shit. What if I suck.
Hillary says I don’t suck. Steve says I don’t suck. I don’t know that I really think I suck. I just haven’t been sure where the fire is. Maybe if I sleep long enough, it’ll come back.
And then my pro license came in my email yesterday. So. Well. We’re doing this, either way. It’d probably be better, then, if I didn’t descend into a spiral of self-doubt and pity. It’d be better if I get back to fighting for it.