“Sometimes you eat the barr, and sometimes, well, he eats you.”
(The Stranger, The Big Lebowski, 1998.)
I woke up extra early this morning to get my iPod all synched up with good listenings for Run Group No. 2. When I plugged it in, my browser opened up Nike+ with some exciting news – 2010 Statistics are in! Nike+ tallied up all my miles, average pace, and average number of runs per week for all of last year. REPORT CARD DAY! It was neat to see the tally done that way. I thought, “Wow, that’s a LOT of miles. Go me.” That is, until, I saw the option to see the 2010 statistics lined-up next to the 2009 statistics. “Surely,” I thought aloud, “there was major improvement given the wailing I put on the fourth quarter of 2010.”
What a bummer, man. So, dejected, I turned from the laptop indignant with the sting of this insult. “Oh yeah,” I said in my strongest nanny-boo-boo intonations, “Well I’ll show YOU, 2010. I am off to Run Group. RIGHT NOW.” I drove fast all the way there, amped to pound out some good miles and add something to the 2011 pile to assuage my downtrodden feelings of blobiness. I jumped out of the car to meet the Run Group and felt naked, too-light, and ill-equipped. The iPod! Still plugged in to the stinking computer dumping deficient 2010 stats onto the Nike+ database. Ugh! I’d already struggled at Run Group No. 1 without my trusting running companion reassuringly ticking off my miles over my empowering jog-beats. I’d felt certain on Monday that I could better my mile time once reunited and blanketed by the security of my rockin’ running tunes. Even without so much focus on my iPod reliance, I was certain that I would do better at Run Group No. 2 than I had at Run Group No. 1.
I was The Last Runner to make it back to the starting point. There were only two other runners left there after their runs. Everyone else was already on the way to work. To top that off, I’ve gon 8 miles this week (3 Monday and 5 today) that are lost forever to my Nike+ log. I really feel like the dog ate my homework, here. I did the assignment, but no credit. As a compulsive gold-star sticker seeker, this kills me. And as for what I told myself while staring through my disappointment at my 2010 stats, that “2011 will be SO much better” . . . ?