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The Birthday Blues

June 3, 2013

It’s the most depressing time of the year.  My birthday.  I’m getting another year older, a little less wiser and  a whole lot slower.  In a lot of ways 27 has been good to me.  I’ve got a wonderful supporting husband, great new friends, 2 adorable borrowed cats, a flourishing garden and 2 Saabs that work most of the time.  In the world of running, 27 has left me with more wrinkles than victories and made me question my ability as an athlete.  I was coming into what should have been the best season of my life, feeling great, injury free, working out like a beast and ready for anything.  Instead I am left dumbfounded and frankly pissed off at the fact that I can’t seem to come within any measurable distance of my steeplechase PR.  Maybe I’ve got an incurable disease, some type of infection or a gluten allergy.  I’ve even considered the fact that maybe I’m just clinically depressed, or is it possible that I’m just not fit enough coupled with the fact that I’m just a big pussy.  Either way these things don’t change the facts, I’ve got one race left and I’m not yet qualified for USA’s.  I could lick my wounds, roll over and blame somebody else for my failures, which would make me feel slightly better but not fix anything.  Or I could take control of my own life, my own training, and my own goals and a a runner, put on my big girl panties and just RUN.  I haven’t decided which one I’ll do yet, but I’ll be sure to let everyone know once I’ve decided.  I race this weekend in Portland.  let’s hope the big girl pants stay up.

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