River Region Runners

I sat with my daughter at the dinner table this week as she refused to eat her potatoes au gratin.

In a way only 6-year-olds can do, she told me, "I don't want to!" She cried, put her head on the table, those tears of hers hitting both the dining table and floor. It was the first real dinner I've made in what felt like weeks: salmon steaks, the potatoes, salad.

There was no basketball practice to take her to, she missed church that night, and I looked forward to some time alone with her.

Still, she refused to even try, so I refused to give her a brownie and she went to bed angry with me.

The next morning -- Thursday -- I woke at 4:30 a.m. to get ready for a 50-minute tempo run as part of my training plan for a half marathon next month. I got dressed -- long tights, three layers on top, stocking hat and a ski mask to cover my mouth and nose.

As I sat down to put my shoes on, I said to myself, "I don't want to do this."

That thought has never entered my head before. "I dread this" has entered my head before, but not that I didn't want to run.

I laced up my shoes with the same nagging thought piercing through my head. I put on my gloves and let out a hard sigh. I stood in my living room, and for the first time during the course of this 12-week training plan -- for the first time, ever -- I felt what I had to do was more of a chore. That I had to do this, instead of wanting to.

I picked up my Garmin and set it for that morning's training run: 10-minute warm-up and 10-minute cool down, and a 30-minute tempo run in-between. I hit each button with force, upset at what I had to do.

I pet the Beagle on my way out the front door, locked up behind me and walked to the end of my driveway. Arms crossed, I felt like I was 6 years old. "Make me!" -- I dared the roads, with a hidden smirk and quick tilt of the head.

I don't want to!

I stood there for about a minute, and even after those first few steps running, I didn't want to. I ran around the block, and straight back to my front door. Total workout: 4 minutes. Physically, I felt great. I knew it would have been a great run. Just didn't want to do it.

Back inside the house, I sat down at my computer and let out my stress. I cried, just as my daughter had the night before. Obviously, I needed a mental break. We're moving in a week to another house in Prattville, and that alone comes with a lot of stress. That probably played a little into it.

That, and knowing the one thing I love -- my one outlet -- was actually a nag that morning. A bother.

I'm not beating myself up over this. I don't feel guilty. In the grand scheme of things, missing a 6-mile run is not a big deal and probably is a rest my body needed anyway. Hal Higdon's advanced plan has been grueling, but I'm not giving up, and I won't toe the starting line at the Mercedes Half Marathon thinking, "Man. If only I didn't skip that one workout."

Instead, I accepted my mental and physical break. The break from "must run the 30-minute tempo portion of my run at this pace, then that, then this." It exhausted me to even think about it that morning.

Don't take this as discouragement. What I learned from this is that it is healthy to take a day off. I learned from other runners that what I experienced is normal. That others do this, too, and simply pick up again on the next run.

Yesterday was a 5-mile pace run, and today is a 1-hour-45-minute run per Higdon's training plan. I counted on the missed run Thursday to push me harder this weekend.

My tears stopped that morning. I looked around at the moving boxes in my living room, and sighed. Life goes on. There's a lot to do.

I showered, dressed and crawled into bed with my daughter, gently trying to wake her up for school. I whispered into her hair, apologizing to her for us arguing the night before, reminding her she is the most important person in my life and that I really wanted us to have a better day.

She didn't answer me, but I knew she was awake because she took my hand in hers.

Here's what I took from missing my training run Thursday:

It's OK. There is going to be that day that you don't want to run -- not because the run is too challenging, but because sometimes, on that one particular day, enough just might be enough.
I also learned that not everyone wants to try potatoes au gratin. That's OK, too.

Kym Klass is an avid runner ,a metro reporter for the Montgomery Advertiser, and R3 member. Follow her workouts at twitter.com/kymklass.