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Anticipating Rest Month

So, I just had to kind of…roll my body off of my couch…onto the floor…so I could yoga.

Kind of yoga.

Something mildly akin to yoga.

I’m broken.

Earlier, I offered to drive the Mayor and The BFF back to their house. That’s, like, basically next door.

Because I need to keep the Mayor’s step numbers down.

He keeps wandering around the neighborhood. And even over into my parents’ neighborhood. A mile away.


Like, man. Just sit down. Relax. Have a beer. Watch some football.

This step challenge is all I have right now. It is the only thing keeping me going.

Because 2020…has absolutely stolen every other bit of hope and light and motivation I used to have. And I used to have a lot. Of all of those things.

Now I literally only have just enough motivation to end this challenge ahead of Tommy and the Mayor.

That’s it.

Nothing else.

I’ve got nothing else.

Tommy thinks that provoking me into overtraining will lead to an injury.

Which, I mean, it will.

It has.

But he also thinks that an injury will sideline me for the rest of the challenge.

Dude. I’ve been injured since 2018.

I don’t even remember what it feels like to be pain-free.

I haven’t gotten out of bed like a normal human being. Since April. Of 2018.

Getting injured is what I do. I get injured. I add said injury to the others I’ve been holding on to for the last two and a half years. And I go run some more.

I mean, a rest does sound nice.

I’ve all but given up on every ultra I had planned the last two months.

Not because I don’t want to run them.

I’m desperate for a real long hard mountain run.

But I don’t have time.

Because I’m dedicating so much time to this fucking step challenge.

That I have to use the weekends to catch up on work work.


I used to have a real life. Kind of.

I used to hang out with friends. I used to read lots of books. I used to run fast enough to get onto the podium. I used to go grocery shopping and clean my home…

The only thing. The ONLY thing keeping me going right now is this damn step challenge. Beating Tommy and the Mayor in this step challenge.

It’s all I’ve got.

And I’m absolutely only doing it for the competition.

I’m absolutely not doing all of this fitness bullshit to lose weight.

It’s absolutely not that dumbass scale. That flashes the same exact number. Down to the tenth of a pound. Every fucking time I step on it.

How, though.

How are you still saying the same number you said three weeks ago??

How are you still throwing that .8 onto the end of it???

What in fuck do I have to do to get rid of the .8????

Look. Since this challenge started. I am doing 40 minutes of strength training 5-6 mornings a week. And running 4-5 days a week.

Ain’t a damn thing shifted in the right direction on my body during this time.

And that fucking scale keeps shoving the same number at me. With .8 on the end. Every time I step on it.

I just…



But I’m damn sure not letting Tommy and the Mayor step out in front of me.

Whatever the cost.

And even if I could manage the time to run an ultra. I can’t rest for it. I don’t get rest days anymore. There’s no tapering this month.


And my legs are just so angry. Just so so angry.

It used to just take a few miles for them to loosen up. And get into the flow of running. And not fight me over every fucking step.

But now.


I ran 7 miles this morning. And it felt like slogging through mud. Like I was wearing sand bags on my legs. The entire way.

I’m slow as hell. And I’m gonna just be slow as hell.

Until this challenge ends.

On November 30th…

When I can finally go back to Chiro Doc. So he can finish shoving my right hip back into place. Permanently. Hopefully. And maybe alleviate some of these injuries.

Until then. I’m just going to continue to collect all of the injuries I’m going to develop this month. Through overtraining.

And then let Chiro Doc just take care of all of it in December.

Because obviously that’s gonna be my rest month.

The whole month.

Say something.

I get the whole damn month of December. To rest. After this bullshit.

And y’all go ahead. Go ahead and fuck around and screw up November 3rd. Go ahead and steal the only other potential source of tenuous hope I have. I’ll just give up running altogether. And focus my time on fixing shit my damn self. And I’ma just be a straight bitch about it. Because I’m in pain. And I won’t have running to manage my mood.

No but seriously. Please make good choices. Because I’m probably not gonna be able to do a whole lot to fix anything myself.

I can’t even move off of my couch right now without rolling around on the ground first.


Just reading and writing and running and looking for my happy place.

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