I’m beginning to realise that endorphins are my drug of choice – and right now, I’m in a state of rest-day induced withdrawal.
Most runners are painfully familiar with the joys of the taper in all its terribly glory; including the bloated feelings of laziness, the perpetual suppression of running-related stimuli, the carb-obsession and the everlasting state of severe grumpypansieness. And do I even dare touch upon the precarious mental state of the injured runner here? For fear of my life, I think I won’t. The point is that both of these runners are suffering from running-withdrawal, and it ain’t pretty.
As a runner taking a few rest days, my mental state is differentiated from that of the tapering runner and the injured runner mostly by superior levels of masochistic tendencies, as my plight is truly self-inflicted.
Yet the urge to run is strong in this one. Things are so bad that I’ve actually caught myself daydreaming about a treadmill earlier…
After all, what’s a runner who isn’t running? The obvious answer would be that a non-running runner isn’t really a runner at all. However, my rational mind tells me that there are plenty of scenarios where a runner who isn’t running can also be a pretty smart runner.
The truth is that I fully understand the importance and value of rest days. I’ve trained hard for five weeks now, with three to four workouts a week topped off with at least two easy runs. It’s high time I take a little break; both my body and mind will thank me for it and come back to training stronger than before (even if the latter is currently staging a dirty riot).
“I’m doing the right thing… I’m doing the right thing.” Repeat after me: “I’m doing the right thing.”