A Good Goddamn

The 10 miler by all accounts was a good, solid race for me. Not a PR by any means but solid. I don't normally run "with" others. I like the alone time and the ability to focus on my race, how I feel and get a sense of whether I can push it or not. Also, I don't "chat". In fact, my theory of the case is that if you have enough breath and energy to chat, you aren't running fast enough. Plus, nobody REALLY wants to hear about the ten different cereals you've tried this week. Sorry.

I ran the race with my good friend Bobbi's husband Kevin. He's almost a foot taller than I am (I exaggerate but not by much) and has a much longer stride. But that said, he was able to match my pace and keep me steady (he could have run MUCH faster I think so am happy he sacrificed his time for me). We didn't chat apart from a random word here or there - the benefits of running with a man. And though he easily crossed the finish line first, I wasn't far behind. Well done both of us.

Enter the rest of the training week. I was utterly uninspired to do anything. You would think that after a recovery day and a few well earned carbs at Sunday brunch I'd be raring to go. Nope. In fact. I could have cared less. Less than less. As my grandfather used to say, I didn't give a good goddamn. I know that word is offensive to some but it was his way of expressing his ultimate "I don't care". One part "could care less" and two parts, "general irritation" at either not caring or being forced to think about caring ... more.

As I pondered the "good goddamn" and not caring to give one, I reflected on some of the times my grandfather had used that word when he DID give one - a GDD. Once when he fixed the 987 year old black and white TV with a pair of pliers, a screwdriver and aluminum foil he exclaimed, "Well, I'll be goddamned!" (clearly not religious my grandfather). When he got more from his garden than he thought he would - my grandparents grew their vegetables for winter sustenance, I'd hear, "Good goddamn!" So the fact that he didn't give one at any given time was clearly a serious consideration about whatever was being discussed.

Back to the workout week. NOT one GGD did I care to give and I could not pinpoint the reason why. Tired? Yes. Not fully recovered? Maybe. Depressed ... probably not. I couldn't quite figure it out. Wednesday rolled around and I did a short run. Disaster in running shoes. I was hot, cranky and generally not in the mood. Didn't help that the work week was barreling down on me like a herd of angry dogs but still, I can usually rise above. Thursday. Swim day. I binged watched Drop Dead Diva instead of going to the pool OR running. SIGH. For whatever reason, to quote Jo dee Messina, "My give a damn was busted." My mind churned with guilt! I am usually the LAST person to skip a workout for something trivial. I panicked. What's wrong? Maybe I really am OLD. Maybe this is how it starts - you stop caring for one day and wake up and it's ten years!

So after beating myself up for another day at work, I decided to relax and just see where all of this was going. On Friday, I woke to find myself amazingly and without explanation, giving a GOOD GD! Maybe it was the break and the rest. Maybe it was taking the pressure off always having to be ON. Maybe it was just letting myself be human for once. Maybe it was Drop Dead Diva. I'm not sure but I do know this. Sometimes your "give a damn" just needs a break. Mine did. Glad I listened because now I'm BACK and on my way to the pool.