Lost Days of Running

Wednesday is the highlight of my week. To be precise, Wednesday nights are the highlight of my week. This is when I meet with fellow Nambanners at the sento, trundle off into the evening to run some kind of quality workout, either long, hard aerobic or some kind of intervals, then soothe the body in the hot waters of the communal bath, followed by beers at the outside "bar" (a low sign outside a convenience store). Such are the simple pleasures of life.

I have had a long period of not missing a Wednesday night run. But yesterday a looming deadline at work and a sick wife conspired to ensure tha tthere was no way in the world I could scarper off from work at 6:00 and join my friends. I felt bad about that. My instinctive reaction was resentment, perhaps a little anger. But luckily I had recently completed a quiz entitled "Are you addicted to the gym?" in which one of the questions was "Do you feel angry if you have to miss as session at the gym?" (I used "run" instead of gym). At first I thought, no, not realy, but then I realized, well, it depends. If it is a key run, yes, actually, I suppose I do. And another was if you had ever quarrelled with your spouse or boss about running too much. I had to check that one. So I realized that my attitude to running, given my other responsibilities in life, is just that little bit dysfunctional.

Of course, last night, with this fresh in my mind, I went home a little early and made soothing noises. My wife's mother had been there through the day and had made a one-pot dinner, and the boys, the youngest of whom is 12, were fine. But you have to be seen to be doing the right thing, you see.

And so it was, that on Thursday morningfour days into my running week, I woke up with only 14 km in the log book. How depressing is that? I think I need clinical help.