So last week I ran 1.5 miles one day, and realized I hadn't run before that for five weeks, and that five weeks ago I'd run three days in a row, but before that I hadn't run for a month--and after some quick math it dawned on me: in 2.5 months I'd only run four times. There are excuses: I was sick for four days, there were two significant snows and no one shovels their sidewalks, etc., but mostly I have to chalk up this lack of athletic activity to plumb consarn-it laziness.
Typically when I have a hiatus of this magnitude, I'll ease myself back into a routine, doing three two-milers a week for a couple weeks, then maybe throwing in a fourth day for a couple weeks, until I build back up to 15-20 miles a week. Not this time! I was so aggravated by my Netflix-aided couch potato status that I decided to run 20 miles this week, no matter what. I did 3.5 miles Tuesday, 3.5 Wednesday, and 3.5 today. I'll do 5 tomorrow and 4.5 Saturday to finish the total.
I haven't run 5 miles in a row since--1994? But I'm determined to get my 20 miles done in five days in order to heal my joints on Sunday and Monday.
Surprisingly, I've felt rather good for taking so much time off. Tuesday was a bit awkward: I couldn't find my stride, my arms were flailing a bit too much, my back cramped up, but today I was clipping along and managed to finish 3 and a half miles in under 22 minutes. Normally I get angry if someone says "I saw you jogging in Towson yesterday." "I don't jog, goddamit, I run!" is my usual response. But this week, I've been jogging. When I can do the 3.5 in 19 minutes again I'll be satisfied.