[[So here's my deal about the obsessive working out: I have worked out consecutively an average of six days a week, an hour or more a day without a break longer than 2 days for almost the last two years. i firmly believe that the reasons for starting and my reasons for working out now have significantly changed: i started out wanting to lose weight, i now workout get strong and healthy and to blow some steam. i never had to worry about what would happen if i couldn't/didn't work out for more than 2 days because the problem never posed itself...until today. i love working out and it is the key to making and keeping me happy, especially since i started integrating strength training in the last month or so. i love feeling so strong and powerful. power is sexy. plus, when i don't work out, i lose motivation to read, paint, sleep, do anything, productive or otherwise. i just start to go crazy. its a fact.]]
what followed was me storming up the stairs, putting on my coat and shoes and storming outside for a walk as i called my sister and yelled expletives while i plowed through the six inches of snow in the sidewalks as she patiently listened and offered advice. she calmed me down (even though she was over 12 hours delayed at the airport in leaving for home), i signed up for the pass, quickly changed, and had C drop me off to BSC on the way to his gf's. i was still fuming till about 15 minutes into my run when the fume turned into euphoria and i felt terrible for what i did. an hour and 45 minutes later, i came home, apologized profusely and was greeted by a "thats ok. well, actually thats not ok. its really annoying."
sigh. i am a terrible wife. its days like this that i really question passions. i am passionate about working out. running. creating. art. health. reading. sometimes, even sports. his passion is sports and i feel its the only one he will ever share with me and that is ok. but i wish he would at least accept my passions as mine and therefore a part of his life. especially when i am out of my element to begin with.
on a brighter note, i read a few weeks ago a runner's world article from john bingham ("up and over," January 2009) about the tipping point, when he felt like he was really part of the running community. while i have been running on and off for a few years (since 2000), i have spent countless dollars on running shoes, tops, socks, ipods and other running gear, but i never bought a pair of running tights. a few weeks ago i did. and while i have not been able to run outside (yet) since i purchased them (sick for 2 weeks followed by inches of snow and ice), i have run in them. and while they do feel ever so much like the skinny pants i loathe so much (since i actually have shape to my butt and thighs), those $50 i spent made me feel like a REAL runner for the first time in my life. 3 months, 15 days till my first half marathon. i can't wait.