I finally had a bad run.

It’s been coming.

I had a tempo run on my schedule. Warmup, 2k @ tempo pace, 5:00 recovery, 2k @ 10k pace.

I handled the paces, but the effort was A LOT. I struggled. I needed to take a break. I walked the 5:00 recovery.

Bad runs happen. And the reason this one was bad was really obvious. I had run hard the night before with my run crew. I had run hard on the track two days before. Both those runs went well.

You’re supposed to take it easy between hard efforts. I didn’t. And I paid for it.

At the end of the day, this isn’t a big deal. Bad runs happen. The reasons why are easy to understand. The lessons learned should be easy to implement.

I just actually need to take the lessons forward. Learn, grow, get better. Repeat.

Fridays are rest days.

When my rest days are crammed — morning announcements, evening events — it’s easy to not do anything. But on those kinds of days, I’m usually on my feet and completely stressed, so it’s not really rest.

This Friday, it was really rest. And it was so hard.

Work was relatively quiet, being a Friday in July. I slept in a bit. Left work at a normal hour. Had no plans in the evening. And I really, really struggled to not go to the gym. To do something. “I’m behind on my weekly strength,” I told myself. “You can just foam roll and do PT there,” I said.

But I know if I’d gone, I would have done more. So home I stayed. I became angsty, frustrated. Rest is really hard. To sit still, with your thoughts, with your body. To trust the process. To relax.

It’s just another thing to work on.

Tuesdays mean track days.

There’s a track about a kilometre from my house.

I get up early. Get dressed. Wish I got up earlier so I could have had coffee. Next week, I tell myself. (It won’t happen next week either.) Walk to the track. Turn my watch on. Start my warmup.

My friend will come by soon. We’ll wave, chat briefly. He’ll do his workout, it’ll be different than mine.

Round and round and round the track I’ll go. Fast, then slow. Fast, then slow. The kms will pile up.

My friend will finish his workout and leave. He’ll wave as he heads home.

Two fast guys will show up. They’ll hug, stretch and start running.

I’ll still go round and round and round. Fast, then slow. Fast, then slow.

I’m getting faster. Slowly.

I’m running in circles, but I’m running towards something.

We are 12 weeks out from the Chicago Marathon.

I have decided this is when my training really begins.

I’ve been building to this point all year: coming back from an injury, getting in a routine, getting stronger. Working on my head game. I’m going to the track regularly now. And the gym. I’ve got more work to do, but I’m getting there. I have no travel plans until Chicago. Work should be relatively chill. The only thing standing between me and success is, well, me.

In 12 weeks, I want to cross that finish line knowing I gave it my all.

So here we go.