Guilt Sandwich

Guilt SandwichLike a Jimmy John’s “#1 no mayo, no cheese, add dijon, hot peppers and sauce,” it is the meat in the middle that makes a sandwich.  So with a brick on Saturday and Pizza & Beer that night.   I had nothing left to do but put in a long recovery run (to recover from the beer not the brick.)

I went out with no real distance in mind.  I just kept running.  But halfway through a lap at Washington Park, I thought to myself, “how did I end up here?”  I was now halfway through the run, and I still had 5 miles to go.  At this point, I really had no choice but to keep running.

I could feel the Miller Chill coming through my pores.

I made it through the park and ran by Ice Deli, to see two fellow rabbits, Leah & John enjoying some “Tiger Blood.”  I stopped and chatted for a couple of minutes, to learn that John took a novice spill while stopped on the corner of Koke Mill and Wabash.  Those kind of accidents usually hurt the ego more than anything and usually happens to everyone… once.

While leaving Ice Deli, I thought to myself, only 3 more miles…  I felt suprisingly well as I ran up and down the hills on West Washington.  I think I actually picked up my pace. 

I entered my subdivision with relief.  I was home with 10.5 miles on my Garmin and probably felt better now then I did when I started.

The guilt sandwich, seems to be a regular thing lately.  I need to get back on track and focus for the up and coming races.

I might need switch to a “FOCUS” sandwich.  I wonder what number that is on the menu…