My Ghost, the Ghost of Minna, the Ghost of my Running Legs

I'm extremely, extremely sick of all the music I listen to when running.
I need help.

Yesterday I made a new playlist, desperately searching through my I-Tunes library to find anything that might be inspiring and which I wasn't already totally sick of.
One of the songs I chose was the Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine. I loved, and I mean LOVED this song in my early twenties. It spoke to me. I was very deep as youngster, of course.

Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable
And lightness has a call that's hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it
I'm crawling on your shores

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains
There's more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine

Listening to it again I marveled at the fact that it spoke to me way back when. What did I possibly KNOW at that point that would have connected me to that song? I had sailed my ship of safety til I sank it? Oh Please! At that point I was building that ship of safety; using hammer and nails, iron and steel, using every tool I could find to insure I was bound so tight I'd never be left alone. And I had gone to the doctor? The mountains? Looked to the children? OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I was too busy building the damn ship to do any of that!

At any rate, the song still speaks to me. Over the years I did wrap my fear around me like a blanket, and in the end I did sail my ship of safety til I sank it. Or maybe I didn't completely sink it. It's kind of three-quarters-sunk. It takes serious balls to totally sink your ship.
I came pretty close, though.

I still agree that darkness has a call that's insatiable and that when in the dark it's hard to hear the call of lightness. I also agree that the less I seek the more okay I am --if by okay one means less agitated, conflicted and forcibly out of touch with the nothingness.

I realize I'm speaking in tongues and you are totally skimming. STOP SKIMMING! Or, actually, just skim. It's fine. I will talk shop now and stop with this drivel.

*In short*, (this is the important part) I have no good running songs on my I-Pod. Help me out! I need songs that will get me moving and will not make me think too much.

On the training front:

I was like slower than shit last week. That's a stupid comparison, as shit is neither slow nor fast. It just is. But you get what I mean.

It was a tough week. I had just come off the Olympic race in Kennebunk, and it had tuckered me out more than I was willing to admit. Jen put three seriously hard core workouts on the schedule for the week, and I felt some dread, knowing my body probably wasn't up to the task. Naturally I felt it necessary to keep this to myself, as I am, like so many of you, completely unwilling to admit defeat until after it's happened.

And as predicted, it happened. I hit my pace/heart rate targets for the killer bike workout on Wednesday. However, doing so put me into such a hole my legs were sore to touch on Thursday. On Friday I still wasn't recovered, but I attempted the fartlek run on the schedule anyway. To make it more manageable, I decided to do it on the track. I couldn't wear my racing flats because I had blistered badly wearing them during the race, and I needed them to heal. So I wore my clunky trainers, which totally felt WRONG on the track. The idea was to go 2,3,4,5,6,5,4,3,2 minutes at faster than 5k pace, with 1/2 the interval time as recovery between each. I hit the first two minutes. I hit the first three minutes. Then I didn't hit anything for the rest of the workout. By the end I was barely hitting half marathon pace.
I forgave myself. I would make it up on Sunday's marathon pace run. I would nail that one.

Sunday rolled around and I was still not right. My legs felt like lead when I started my run. Things looked up, though, when 10 minutes into my run I met Jo. Jo is a chocolate lab. We hadn't met before, but we were fast friends in no time. She smelled my hand as I jogged by, and I asked her why she was hanging out all by her lonesome. She just panted, and then took off, as if to say, "Wahoo! I found you! Let's go, sister!" We ran together for a bit. Then I started to get worried, as we were getting farther and farther away from were we had met. I checked her tags. Jo, Hartford Street, and a phone number. At this point we were at least 1.5 miles from her home. Not good. I said, "Go home, Jo!" She wagged her tail and darted ahead into the middle of the street as if to say, "No way, man! Let's RUNNNNNN!" What to do. What to do. I ran on and so did she. She darted under my feet. She raced into the distance and then came crashing back to me. It was like running with Minna, my chocolate who we had to put down last month. I know I'm crazy, but for awhile I even convinced myself she WAS Minna, come to visit and to tell me all was okay.

But it wasn't Minna. It was Jo. And we were like three miles from her house. I had to run back. GRRR! I had a solid 18 mile route planned. So much for that!

After dropping off Jo with a grateful babysitter (Jo had jumped her fence--again, so much like Minna!) I was off again. My pace had been sporadic until this point because of my running with Jo. But now I was alone. No inspiration, no new good tunes on my I-Pod and 10 miles to go. At one hour I was supposed to pick it up to marathon pace. No problem. I could do it. I picked it up, and WHAT! Not even close. I picked it up more and more. Not even close.

I never really did get close. I held it all under 8 min. pace, but it was a pathetic effort. When I got home I contacted Jen in defeat. I needed some rest. On paper I shouldn't need rest, but nevertheless....

And I'm drained today, still. The darkness is pushing me around hungrily and I just need to snap out of it. Hate that.
and that's that.