Day 8: It's days like this...

that make me appreciate the good running days. Today was probably the 2nd worst running day I've had in the very early stages of this journey. I'm not sure I can really pinpoint the definite reasons for the bad day, but lots of things just weren't right today. It was bitter cold first thing this morning, and I believe that set my mood negative immediately. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and I guess I just let it affect me, which I shouldn't have done. For me to have at least a good run, my mind must be very sharp, and focused. I have to be able to block out anything that should be considered background, circumstantial, or secondary if you will, to the task at hand. When I can block out all else to where my own inner voice is all I am hearing and responding to, then I can be an efficient runner. Let's just say today wasn't one of those "happy" days. I allowed the weather to immediately affect my mood, and, well, things just kind of spiraled out of control from that point. As soon as the run started, I found myself asking "why does it have to be so damn cold, I thought this was bleeping southern, sunny California." That thought lasted for about 30 seconds when I felt a minor ache in my knee, to which I responded, " what the @#%*, now I'm gonna have knee problems all day". That thought quickly transitioned after a huge tractor trailor flew by, smacking me in the face with a stiff wind, at which point I verbalized my displeasure with a few choice words. Yes, by 1 minute and 30 seconds into my 20 mile day, I was cursing at the wind. I realize that this sounds completely insane, because it is. But in those moments, as I said, everything bad is multiplied in frequency, and level of annoyance. For the first 4 miles of the day, I was having a battle royale inside my mind, trying to force myself into the "happy place" full of bunnys, chocolate, and 50 yardline seats at Mountaineer Field with Pat White, Steve Slaton, and Owen Schmitt still in the backfield. Unfortunately, all my worthless brain could spew out was, "who the hell does this person think she is trying to catch the bus where I'm trying to run".
I wish I could say the morning got better, and that I was able to overcome my C minus brain, but that's just not realistic. The truth is, I cussed at a bird, I cussed at the sand, I cussed at the wind for hours, I cussed because I saw another damn Del Taco Restaurant and I still haven't stopped there to eat, I cussed the hills in the road, I cussed the clouds for covering the sun and making me colder, I cussed my body for hurting all over, an I cussed time, for taking damn near forever it seemed. That was the morning 12 miles in a nutshell, pure misery accompanied by my beautiful symphony of "F" bombs at inanimate objects. The only good thing I could take from the morning's run, is that despite all of the distractions I allowed, I was still able to overcome, and finish, which is my ultimate goal in this run. I broke for lunch and took a much needed nap to finally clear my head, hoping that the rest would reset my mental state, thus helping me not be so hypersensitive to my physical state. It turns out the rest did just that. Now, I won't say the evening run was great, but it was so much better than the morning that it actually almost felt good. My mind was refocused, and although I still felt my body fighting back a bit, I was able to push the pain down into that little place in my mind where it just didn't matter. No more cussing at little furry woodland creatures. Just me, my music, the road, and some very splendid views. Well that, and the bloody nipples. Now, I don't intend to gross any of you out, but that is just something that comes with me running so many miles for so many days. No matter how many times I "lube 'em up", they just get rubbed raw. And sometimes to the point that they ooze a certain important red substance. I'll say no more about them since Mom was gracious enough to take a picture and post it  just below. Go ahead and look, I'll wait............................yeah, pretty disgusting, I know.
Nevertheless, I was able to finish all 20 miles today, and even though the run itself was pretty miserable, I probably made more progress because of the struggle than I would have with an easy day. It's those days of intense struggle that open our eyes to the really good stuff, not just during a run, but during life itself. And if we are able to persevere and overcome those struggles, it really makes those "happy" days just a little happier.
On a personal note, I would just like to send my condolences to Trina and Dave Satterfield. I am very sorry to hear about Tabatha. I will be praying for comfort and healing for you both.