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I wanted to write a blog post penned as a break up letter to the treadmill. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the letter would be so incredibly insincere, it would be better off delivered as a text message. That’s right treadmill, I’d dump you via text with some canned excuse: It’s not you, it’s me; we should see other people; blah blah blah the spark is gone. Thanks for the memories. See ya around.
I would like to thank you treadmill, and your friends stair stepper and elliptical, for having done a fantastic job in providing the daily endorphin highs over the cold winter months, but now I would like nothing more than to go OUTSIDE.
(In other words: I’m over you.)
Like a freight train speeding at a brick wall, cabin fever has hit me. HARD. I know, I know, this is VERMONT. Snow in March is nothing new. Snow after the first day of spring? Cruel move by mother nature, but again, not unheard of. But day after day of waking up and starting my car in below zero temperatures has finally started to take its toll on me. I feel like a bear trapped in a cage of wool socks and far too many hooded sweatshirts, and frankly, I’m over it.
With April looming only 4 days away and forecasts that still mention snow accumulation, I’m starting to become convinced that winter is never going to end. And the urge to escape this frozen tundra and run around in the woods and crawl through the mud has begun to consume me
As mentioned many times before, my fitness interests change as frequently as (and often with) the weather. Thus, my training style is constantly changing. Considering I’m not a professional nor Olympic bound, the constant back and forth isn’t an issue. But on the flip side, I’ve noticed a huge overall increase in fitness from the moment I decided to stop caring about what I was “supposed” to be training for, and just train. (Like being so hell bent on running 100+ miles a month that you never pick up a weight or do a pushup. Sound familiar?) So needless to say, I think my plan works.
After I struggled through the Spartan Beast World Championships last September, I hung up my OCR shoes in favor of some place warmer: the gym. And I have had zero regrets about that decision. Thanks to the wonderful invention that is the Facebook, I’ve seen my Spartan friends travel across the country to various races, and I have not felt one ounce of jealousy, or FOMO. I’ve seen my even crazier New England Spahtens friends participate in winter, snow covered OCR’s (yes, they exist) and I found myself thinking how GLAD I was that I wasn’t there. (You’re all a bunch of crazies.)
Maybe it’s because many of our local friends have been pestering us about when we are going to start our “Ranger Runs“ again.
Perhaps it’s because my BFF Hope rocked the Charlotte Spartan Sprint last weekend (and I’m not sure what I am more jealous of, the fact that she got to race, or the fact that she got to race in tank top and shorts weather)
Or maybe it’s because my backyard still looks like this:
I’m ready to complain about the heat. I want to have to time my runs to avoid the mid day sun and the early evening mosquitoes, and constantly slather myself in sunscreen and bug spray. I’m ready to be caught in the woods during a thunderstorm. I’m ready to mow the lawn and get stung by bees (but hopefully not that awful bee that lives in the lawn that bit my ankle last year, that sucker HURT). I’m ready for camp fires and open windows and flip flops and sun bleached hair.
I’m ready to play, I’m ready to run, I’m ready to race. Oh Spring, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?
And that concludes this cabin fever induced whiny rant.