Pre fatigued run success
|July 30, 2014||Posted by Melinda under Uncategorized|
As you may have guessed from the volume of posts, I’m really stressed.
I’m on call (first shift tomorrow) in a section of the hospital I’ve never been in (the equine barn) by virtue of my decision to take large animal ultrasound. I’m not reassured by my classmates’ look of concern when I tell them I’m primary tomorrow night and on the weekend even though I’ve never stepped foot into the barn before.
And before you tell me everything will be fine….there’s a huge difference between being a horse owner – even an educated one – and being able to function in a large emergency equine clinic and do treatments of all the inpatients.
I have to admit the more I see of equine medicine, the less thrilled I am with it – and I’m really really really glad I didn’t put all my eggs in that basket. I’ll survive tomorrow night I’m sure, and I feel another “(insert blank) days ’till graduation” post coming on where I’ll share some of the things I’ve learned about vetmed over my last couple of rotations.
Here’s the second problem that’s compounding the whole situation. Stress and fatigue thins the outer facade we all construct so we can interact with strangers and the raw underlying feelings and thoughts are just a little closer to the surface.
And in this case, my unfiltered emotions are this: I really miss my sister. And the immensity of that emotion makes it almost impossible to deal with any other major stress with any sort of optimism.
Every time I have to do something unpleasant I wonder whether I can walk up to the administration office and request more leave, but wouldn’t know what to do with it. Grieving isn’t something I can put into a 2 week box, and so instead I just continue on feeling a little more fragile and a little less able to be optimistic that my on-call will be nothing short of horrible, and that I can get a fellow classmate to cover my inpatients for the Saturday of my fifty miler.
I can also feel myself less able to mentally gut out runs that are unpleasant. I just quit. The mental fortitude to keep going and gut it out is just not there right now.
But tonight I can’t fix any of that. So tonight I ran.
Rather poorly in terms of the planned tempo run….but a pre-fatigued success as I rather impressively managed to duplicate *exactly* how I felt at ~hour #8 at the ride and tie. I present my method so you too can experience the joy….
- Ideally you should have a lot of mental stress in your life.
- Start by picking the hottest part of the day. 4pm works nicely. Bonus points if it’s over triple digits.
- Decide to do a speed run in the non speediest running shoes you own – a pair of 22mm stack height cushioned shoes.
- eat fast food for breakfast. Follow that up with a lunch of baby carrots and potato chips. You will sufficiently hungry to start the run that it will count as “fasted”.
- Don’t wear a hat or anything else to shield bare skin from the sun on your face, arms, legs.
- Go out too fast without a warm up.
- Give up 2/3 through the route and switch from tempo run to “survive the sun” mode employed in the afternoon hours of ultras. Which involved lots of walking and pouting. It felt less like mentally quitting, and more like “don’t puke” which was vaguely reassuring.
Later on, after trimming Farley’s feet and playing with MerryLegs, I came home and just happened to glance through the glass slider.
And saw this:
One of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen where I live (California’s central valley).
It was spectacular, with fingers of color that reached through layers of still more color.
I took a lot of pictures, playing with settings and effects, not sure what would turn out.
In the space of just a few minutes, the sky changed and that view that made me forget *everything* and run outside was gone.
Still beautiful, but some how less demanding of my attention.
I get comments from clinicians all the time that they appreciate my enthusiasm and they laugh at my exclamations of delight when something clicks or I get to see something awesome and amazing. My approach to clinics is like a kid in the candy store. Soon enough you eat all the candy and your stomach hurts, but that doesn’t mean you can’t squeal with delight and appreciation now.
Clinics, Vet school (and work) not all good, but I make a conscious decision to let myself delight in the small things. When that’s no longer possible, it’s time to move on.
I look at life similarly. No, it is not all good. But I can choose to lose myself in a sunset, or the small things even when the big things in life aren’t.