It's Supposed to be Fun

            For some reason I got it stuck in my head a long time ago that I was a real runner if I made it to 20 miles per week. Probably something I read in one of the running magazines that said it should be easier to lose weight if you run that much or more. This sounded good to my ears, given that I was overweight as a kid and got picked on for it. I didn’t really focus on eating or my other habits—just get to that number and you’ll be fine.

            That was my mindset as I achieved my weekly goal of 20+ miles for 29 consecutive weeks in 2016-17. That’s about 689 miles over nearly seven months miles when additional miles north of 20 are included. I worked hard, ran five times most weeks, and made sure I got out there when the weather was cold (for Georgia) and when Mother Nature turned up the temperature. I ran in Houston when K-State played in the Texas Bowl, in Kansas City for my niece’s wedding, and clicked off a sub-22:00 5K on a steamy Saturday morning in March.

            So I’m very proud of my effort level.

            My mistake is that I focused too sharply on the goal and not on the fact that running is supposed to be fun. I always enjoyed stepping outside my door and taking off, but I didn’t allow myself much deviation in the routes I chose. I have a couple of four-mile courses, two that are five miles, plus various loops I can use to add a little extra distance as needed. It was good running, it just got to be monotonous. That plus some life changes ended my streak the first week in June.

            Giving myself permission to not run took a little getting used to. I felt like I had to get out there or I would get fat and out of shape. Like I was chasing something that shouldn’t be chased. That I would become the 11-year old kid on the playground that I used to be.

            But I’m relaxing now as I work back into things, just with less structure and intensity. I am making a greater effort to run socially—I ran with our Fleet Feet group at 7 AM on the Fourth of July, and I met the group at a local pizza shop for a three-miler that has a free beer at the end. Plus I’m giving myself the OK to not run if I feel like it. I feel like my fitness level hasn’t really dropped off—my paces and splits are about the same.

            I’m still setting goals though, just lowering the bar to between 15-20 miles a week and creating less stress and more fun in my life.

Big Recycling Box in the Sky

I had to retire another pair of shoes a few weeks ago. I wanted to have a Viking funeral or a bonfire or something but then the fire department would show up followed by the police, so I chose to not do those things.

So I just took my old Nike Pegasus 30 to the recycling box at my running shop, letting them end at the place where it began. Before I started working at Fleet Feet I would show up at the weekly Monday Night Group Run event and one day the Nike rep had Pegs for us to try and a pair to give away via drawing. I so rarely win things like this so I didn't get my hopes up but I heard my name called and a few days later I went home with these dudes:

Nike Pegasus 30, men's 9 1/2 with elastic laces

These were even a favorite at my old running store in Tuscaloosa. Our Chief Running Officer always loved them because they were so soft and comfortable. Store manager Voldemort liked them because they were the shoe Nick Saban wore on the sidelines at Alabama football games, meaning Tide football fans gobbled them up when we got them in. Ol' Voldemort couldn't even pronounce Pegasus but that didn't matter as long as the cash register kept up. It's still a running joke for the First Lady and me-- we call them what he did-- Nike 'Paygus.'

My first run for them was a nine-miler on a Saturday in September, 2013. Probably a little long for their debut, but I wrote AWESOME in my running log that day, after I'd scrawled OMG! in the space for Monday's demo run. So I guess I was a fan right from the get go. They'd been making this shoe for a long time and it seemed as though they were on to something.

The Pegasus took me through the streets of Atlanta in March, 2014 for the Publix Marathon. That was the time my wife actually had to help me down off the curb so I could cross the street on our way back to the hotel.

Last ride for these old friends was a four-miler a few weeks ago on a sticky Georgia morning. 533 miles for these old foot soldiers.