Run Moony Run – 20 Weeks

Self-Doubt Rules

It’s twenty weeks before my Run Moony Run attempt on the New York Marathon. According to the official site, 140 days and a few hours to go. I’m half anxious and half depressed about the venture. It’s only eight weeks since I did a decent job of trying to wipe myself out in a cycling accident in Spain. It’s only a few days since I discarded my sling, which was helping support my surgically repaired collarbone. On Wednesday I had my first physio system and reluctantly admitted to my excellent physio Stephen that I was feeling pain in my shoulder blade and ribs.

Somewhere in that admission to Stephen, I obliquely mentioned I was planning to run the New York Marathon, and then I muttered something about me having run a few times in the last ten days. He would make a great diplomat because he didn’t call me a fuckwit, although the slight flicker in his eyes told me all I needed to know.

Running may be slowing the recovery in my ribs and shoulder blade. Which I knew, but don’t hear simply because my head is stuck in the sand. And my fingers are in my ears at the same time. The prescription is some low-impact cardio, such as a stationary bike or the lower body action of a cross-trainer. No running.

Cue depression, doubt, self-loathing, plagues of locusts, and pestilence.

Why Do I Set Goals?

I set goals for obvious and non-obvious reasons. For most of my life, I set daft goals and chased them hard. To my credit, I have often utilised my stubbornness to achieve the goal; sometimes, even when it became obvious that the goal wasn’t remotely worth the effort, I achieved in a lot of minor areas that the world will never register.

It was a while before I realised that, in addition to the positive aspect of goal setting, some of my daftest pursuits involved setting myself up to fail. Why would I do that? to prove to myself that I was a worthless individual, a failure, a deadbeat, and a weapons-grade waste of space.

Somewhere along the winding road of my life, I started scrapping the setting myself up to fail script and saying, “I can do this.” It’s been one of the characteristics that gets stronger as I travel the road. If I say I will do something, it’s more likely than not to happen. I have gotten better at figuring out if something is worth achieving, which is a blessing in my later life, and I don’t find myself tilting at too many windmills these days.

That Which Does Not Kill Us

Interestingly, my last handful of years have seen me deal with clinical depression and two serious road accidents. That’s made me more determined, not less. It’s made me more positive, not less. I have never thought much of the Nietzsche quote, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” But I see it now.

After a few days of moping, I decided to take the middle road. For the balance of this month, which includes a holiday and, by definition, some downtime, I will do what I can. If, over the next two weeks, I can work on my shoulder mobility and associated rehabilitation and fit in the odd non-running cardio session, that’s a start.

When 1st July comes around, that’s the official start of my 16-week training programme. So, I’ll start and see where I go. My original plan was to have a 26-week lead-in, but my poor bike-handling skills paid for that. That can’t be undone, so there’s no use sulking about it. I can deal with what’s in front of me and try and improve it.

Run Moony Run I believe is hard, but with the right mindset and careful preparation, is achievable.

Setting goals helps me focus. They also help me see what is worth chasing and what isn’t as important as I initially thought. It will spur me to research the subject and make a plan. The plan will then make me get on and do the work, even when I don’t feel like it.

My goals have shifted from being a stick to beat myself with to something that brings out the best in me. So why the long face this week?

There Are Only So Many Laps

When Stephen told me this week to take it easy with my running, it was a reality check for me. The next day, I saw an old friend and told him the story, and instead of him aligning with me, he said, “Man, it’s only a few weeks since you nearly killed yourself. Give yourself a break.” My wife encouraged me to take a longer-term view – “Running is a lifelong activity; it doesn’t matter if you run New York this year or next.” Another good friend – “Be kind to yourself, and your recovery will look after itself.”

All wise advice, but advice that also scares the hell out of me. I’ve only got so many more laps of the sun left. Run Moony Run was conceived entirely from the concept of those diminishing laps. I fear that if I put things off, then that’s another lap run, and the probability of me completing a skipped task diminishes. One day, I will wake up and realise that I don’t do much anymore and I’m just hanging around in death’s waiting room.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no false illusions about what I can achieve and for how long. But I want to wear out and not rust out.

That’s why I was both sad and angry this week. I barely have enough training weeks left to look myself in the eye and say, “Let’s run.” Sensible and concerned people around me are telling me to get back to health. And I’m bothered about another lap coming off the board without me achieving the marathon. Of course, my early life feelings of being a failure when faced with a tough task are lurking around, too.

Run Moony Run

I will give it my all. If it comes up short, it will mean that every effort has been made and all options have been explored. I’m a fortunate man; I count my blessings every day. Millions of people have far more significant challenges daily, with no choice and no glimmer of hope of their problems ever receding. My getting over a few injuries to attempt to run an iconic marathon is a blessing. If I succeed, I will be a mentally and physically stronger person. If I fail, I will be a mentally and physically stronger person. There’s no downside here.

Run Moony, Run