I tend to agree, since I have to rule out lack of sleep or severe pain or really, anything else. I just stop. I start the endless litany of thinking "I can't do this." And my inner action hero just takes a nap.
Calling Dr. Freud.
Curiously, on Tuesday, back at work, on ye olde Crescent Trail, I ran three miles in 31:58.
So, it seems like I can only run on the Capital Crescent Trail. That's kind of a problem. It's beautiful and all, but really, that's like saying I can only walk in certain places. In other places, someone must carry me.
Can you believe I have worked in the same building for eight years, and have been running now since April 2005, and have NEVER ONCE gone out to the trail and turned LEFT? Talk about your ruts.
To overcome this one, on Thursday I did something madcap: I Ran the Other Way. Yup, I went out there and took a left. Three miles, in 32:51.
It was a whole new scene. Past retail stores, past the wonderful Bethesda Row Cinema, through an underpass, past a golf course, people's backyards.
So Running the Other Way is some big metaphor for life. And I should write something profound about it here. And I will. One day.
Meanwhile, Thursday night, I went back to Bikram Yoga in Dupont Circle, and yowza! I swear I lost five pounds in water weight in 90 minutes. Several extremely good-looking gentlemen were in attendance, covered only in speedos and sweat. Alas, I don't think they were dressed for anyone on my team. After about two minutes in the 120 degree heat, I kind of stop noticing anyone anyway, since I get really busy concentrating on staying alive.
And speaking of the Other Way and the Other Team—go see Brokeback Mountain. Extremely moving. Amazing acting.
The other way—we shall see whither it leads.