Bonk
I bonked the other day on an 8-9 mile run.( If you’ve ever seen ”Run, Fatboy, Run,” you will have a great picture of what this looks like.)Bonked techinically has to do with glycogen depletion in the muscles, blah,blah,blah. What it feels like, though, is utter failure and defeat in a realm you thought you were excelling. And I haven’t bonked on a run in ages. It irritated the hell out of me and I spent a bit of time trying to figure out why I crashed so. Glycogen aside there is a mental/spirit aspect in play, and mine failed me.
Later in the day it hit me that I hadn’t had much of a supper the night before as I was in Boulder all day at BoCo and left happy hour (and, thus, food) there to hear Don Miller back in Denver. So, yes, there was that. But there was still that lingering grey cloud following me like some kind of Charlie Brown.
And there is so much more going on in life than a bonked run. From moving out of my place to making some significant changes inside of life as much as outside to finding out Monday that my last Grandmother – whom these past 20 years I knew as well as a stranger on the street – died (the fourth person I’ve known to die in as many months) and on and on. I’ve had a bit going on… but the bonk, bugged. It informed something else, somewhere else in life.
I knew I had to get back on the metaphorical horse, put my shoes on, and go run. So I headed to Boulder to run The Mesa Trail before it starts snowing here in the next few days and makes it all the more difficult to get motivated. It wasn’t easy. The trail demons kept persuasively suggesting, “Stop trying. Give it up. You are just in a slump and need to resign yourself to it. This isn’t worth it.” And I almost did give up. After all, I would have plenty of good reasons to talk my self into “taking a break,” take a few months off.
But I didn’t. I pushed through.
It wasn’t until I was back in the parking lot that I felt the gratitude well up, that I was glad for the run. And it was back in the parking lot that the lights came on for how much my life and running, once again, educate each other.
I have plenty of Bonks in life. But they aren’t the norm. They are the exception. And the stuff I learn on the backside of ‘em is exceptional. Sometimes it’s taken being back in a similar “place” to find out the bonk was just a thing, and not the defining moment. Or to put it in other’s words: ”And every time you get cut/You know you might get scarred/But don’t sweat it kid/Just remember who you are” - G. Love
And so I do….
Later in the day it hit me that I hadn’t had much of a supper the night before as I was in Boulder all day at BoCo and left happy hour (and, thus, food) there to hear Don Miller back in Denver. So, yes, there was that. But there was still that lingering grey cloud following me like some kind of Charlie Brown.
And there is so much more going on in life than a bonked run. From moving out of my place to making some significant changes inside of life as much as outside to finding out Monday that my last Grandmother – whom these past 20 years I knew as well as a stranger on the street – died (the fourth person I’ve known to die in as many months) and on and on. I’ve had a bit going on… but the bonk, bugged. It informed something else, somewhere else in life.
I knew I had to get back on the metaphorical horse, put my shoes on, and go run. So I headed to Boulder to run The Mesa Trail before it starts snowing here in the next few days and makes it all the more difficult to get motivated. It wasn’t easy. The trail demons kept persuasively suggesting, “Stop trying. Give it up. You are just in a slump and need to resign yourself to it. This isn’t worth it.” And I almost did give up. After all, I would have plenty of good reasons to talk my self into “taking a break,” take a few months off.
But I didn’t. I pushed through.
It wasn’t until I was back in the parking lot that I felt the gratitude well up, that I was glad for the run. And it was back in the parking lot that the lights came on for how much my life and running, once again, educate each other.
I have plenty of Bonks in life. But they aren’t the norm. They are the exception. And the stuff I learn on the backside of ‘em is exceptional. Sometimes it’s taken being back in a similar “place” to find out the bonk was just a thing, and not the defining moment. Or to put it in other’s words: ”And every time you get cut/You know you might get scarred/But don’t sweat it kid/Just remember who you are” - G. Love
And so I do….