Apologies for the silence here, friends, but there has been as much smiling happening as there has been running lately. Which is to say, practically none.
Why? I'll show you why. Take a look at this ol' beauty:
That's right: Bunions. Bad ones. My left food in particular has sidelined me for over a week, though I've been suffering with the brutal thing for several years now. I reckon it's time for surgery, and have a second opinion scheduled for tomorrow. (Wish me good luck and good feet.)
No running means plenty of time to… well, to whinge, first and foremost, but also to spend time focusing on other stuff. Like the elliptical machine and core exercises. Which translates to being bored out of my g-ddamned mind, going to the stupid gym every stupid day.
Wah, boo hoo, First World Problems™. But still. Runners, you understand. The agony of not being able to run! The purgatory of cardio machines and recumbent bikes and those terrible little TVs that every gym is stuffed to the gills with!
I hate it, but I do it. I do it because (a) I know I won't be able to do anything for the first few weeks after this inevitable surgery, and (b) I know that maintaining some level of fitness will help me ease back into running as soon as I'm able again.
In order to glean some enjoyment out of going to the gym, I've started a little incentive for myself: Every time I work out—no matter what it is, so long as it's prescribed as "exercise"—I put a dollar in a jar.
Yes, I've got a Workout Jar. And it's awesome. And it's filling up fast. And it feels so good to put a dollar in this silly thing that I can't help but feel really great about suffering through every excruciating moment spent walking on a treadmill or trudging along on the step machine.
So there's that, and I can slog along. I don't know what I'll do with the dough, and I don't care. Because every time I look at this thing, I think, "See? It's okay. You're not running, but you're doing something great for yourself. You're taking care of yourself. You're committed, you're dedicated. You're living hard and fast and true."
I can do this. I will run again. I am not defined by running, I am defined by my perseverance and my love of life and my commitment to treating my body well.
This is a new year, I'll be a new athlete. And maybe I'll buy myself a new outfit—Lord knows I have enough money in this thing already!
Do you incentivize your running or working out somehow?