The first step is admitting you have a problem, and I've got one. I'm in the middle of running malaise -- a funk.
I went from 21 miles, to seven miles, to three miles, to no miles so far this week. I've logged back-to-back 20-mile weeks only once this year, and that was back in January. (Though I came close in March with a 19-mile week followed by 20 the next, but we all know close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.)
I have yet to run a race. The most involved post I've written about running this year (or maybe ever) was completely fabricated by my inner Jayson Blair.
I get home from work and usually prefer to snack than run. My only exercise of late has been two to three walks with Dobson. I no longer have the convenient excuse of bad weather.
I know this happens to us all. But it still sucks.
I need a shot ...
In the arm, not of whiskey.