I've been noticing a doubt monster.
He creeps around every once in a while. Sometimes I see him when I'm getting ready for work. Sometimes he peeks his head from the corner of my disaster-zone basement when I'm running on the treadmill. For some reason, I think he's blue. And fuzzy.
And tonight, I swear he crept behind the door at Urgent Care when the doctor on duty told me I had PNEUMONIA. Effing pneumonia. No running for 1-2 weeks.
Bodies have a way of telling you they have had enough, thank you very much. It's been pretty high-stress around here lately, and I think that along with my unwillingness to back off or budge on my training (despite coughing all week--oops) has finally caught up with me.
And now I'm staring the doubt monster directly in the face.
I know it's normal to be afraid sometimes. My attempt at a 3:40 will take every ounce of guts, blood, sweat, and tears I have. It is the upper limit of what I can do, and I know this. I might crash and burn. I've accepted that.
But now I'm wondering if missing 1-2 weeks right now, in what should be the thick of my training, is going to make it out of reach. And that makes me feel like I am giving up. And I hate that.
I'm wondering if I need to realistically re-examine my goals right now. Maybe it makes more sense to try for 3:40 in the fall. Hell, that's the magic number I need for what seems like forever. It's not going anywhere.
But then I feel like I'm giving up; admitting defeat. And that's worse than this stupid pneumonia that has me with a 102 degree fever and feeling like I've been hit by a semi.
I guess what I need to do is see how long it takes me to recover from this stupid thing. Maybe it makes sense to downgrade to the half. Maybe it makes sense to adjust my goal for the full.
Right now I wish this stupid doubt monster would leave me alone. And I just wish I felt like myself again--the one with a take-no-prisoners attitude, do or die, 3:40 or bust. I hope she comes back soon.