Tired and restless

Around 4 pm yesterday, I found myself increasingly nervous and anxious. By 6 pm, I wanted to leave work and get home as quickly as possible; once home, I ate my dinner and gulped down a glass of wine in record time. When I settled in at 9 pm to watch the State of the Union address, I had a difficult time concentrating and instead prepared for bed at around 9:45 pm. By 10:20 pm, I was under the covers while Barack Obama's voice boomed in from the other room; at 10:30 or so, I finally asked Zdenek to turn off the television so that I could go to sleep. I think I was zonked out by 11 pm, but then I awoke several times during the night and had difficulty falling back to sleep. When my pre-programmed coffee machine started brewing at 5:45 am, I had already been awake for 15 minutes or more.

My heightened state of anxiety yesterday wasn't just because I was feeling crummy (though I was) or wanted to get an extra hour of sleep (though I did). I was nervous because of what lay in store for me this morning. I was stressing over the fact that I've been teetering on the edge of a full-blown illness all week long and that every night I've only added to my accumulated sleep deficit. I was doubtful that I would be able to concentrate and find sufficient energy to perform well this morning. But I wasn't facing a test, an important meeting, or even a job interview today. Rather, I was up against a scheduled tempo run that called for a sustained, hard effort, and I wasn't certain that I would be up to the task. I was worried that this run would feel terrible, and in turn would make me feel terrible, and that it would forever leave a black mark in my training log.

I recognize that this probably sounds silly to anyone who might read this (does anyone actually read this?) -- I feel silly even writing it! I know that I'm not competing for anything (now or in the future) and that I'm so far away from the ranks of even the semi-elite that I should just be happy that I can even train for a marathon at all. But when Zdenek and I headed out the door this morning, I told him that I had been dreading this run all week (to my annoyance, he casually replied that he hadn't even given it a moment's thought until then). I was still doubtful that I could rally enough energy and focus to meet the prescribed pace and distance laid out for me in my training plan, at least not without overshooting my target heart rate by five or more beats per minute.

Happily, when all was "said and run" today, I had a fantastic tempo. My pace was a full ten seconds per mile faster than planned, and my heart rate was bang on. I worked hard but felt strong. Even better, it was a bit snowy and wintry, which made it all the more interesting. In retrospect, I should never have worried about this run at all, and I certainly shouldn't have stressed unnecessarily about it for the twelve hours prior. I should have gone to sleep looking forward to a good night's rest, and left it at that. And even if the run had gone poorly -- even if had gone extraordinarily poorly -- would that have been such a big deal? In the grand scheme of things, no, but it would have left me dreading next week's tempo even more than I surely will. Stress can be a good motivator, but I'm thankful I have at least a few more days before anxiety kicks in again (and even more thankful that tomorrow is a rest day).