How many math junkies just nullified that equation?  I promise it’s not what it looks like!

Every summer, I create visions of what the next three months will look like. Then I utterly fail at making that vision a reality.  For years, I dreamed of monitoring summer school work for my children, field trips to local venues, group book reading after lunch and limited screen time.  #fail.  #everyyear.

This year, I loosened up on all my ambitious dreams and actually found more peace. Of course, having fitness camps and older children helped.  XBox didn’t hurt, either.

For myself, I hoped to take advantage of my reduced teaching schedule by practicing more yoga and increasing my strength training.  Instead, I’ve continued to be the primary dog walker and am outside most days.  A few days a week we run, fulfilling two goals:  a) get cardio in, and b) get inside from the oppressive heat faster.  

Now, before I begin complaining, I must admit my forthcoming challenges are partially my fault.  My wakeup time shifted later to 7am, and I wasn’t normally ready to head out the door until 8am.  This allowed the near-lethal combination of morning humidity and sun bearing down on us to suck the life out of my legs.   

I feel like I also must give you a reference point.  In November, I completed a half marathon – 13.1 miles – at a respectable 8:53 pace.  This means on average, I ran a mile in 8 minutes and 53 seconds.  After resting a few weeks, I resumed running and had similar times.  Spring found crisp air and gentle sun boosting my runs even faster.  In late March, I easily finished 5.27 miles at an 8:23 pace.  

So when I tell you that recently I struggled with 3 miles at barely a 10 minute pace, perhaps you can understand why this makes me feel like I somehow failed my potential.  

But the deal is, it felt harder.  Breathing was more laborious.  Heck, seeing was difficult with my sweat saturating my visor and dripping down my face.  The end of those three miles left me wanting to join my dog, lying with the side of my face absorbing the cool stone of my kitchen floor.

My initial reaction was to kick myself and give myself one of those overzealous “pep talks” one might envision an unsympathetic coach might yell.  “You wimp!  You can do better than this!  Look at what you’ve done and where you are.  Step it up!  Suck it up! You’re never going to improve by willy-nillying around the block!”  (Do coaches say willy-nilly?)    

 I have a competitive side that surfaces every now and then, which is difficult to admit.  My sister-in-law is visited a few weeks ago.  We have a tradition of running whenever we get together, but I felt shamed by her Ironman training and opted out.  Seeing my running friends trek along while I’m power walking down the sidewalk makes me feel sheepish.  

But stepping back, I shoot back a very reasonable explanation to my angry inner coach:

• I am not training for anything.

• Outside exercise requires evolution in the summer.  Go slower, go earlier (or really late) or get in the water and swim.

• I am not a professional athlete.  Who really cares what my pace is right now?

• My speed and distance might be changing but my effort is not.

 I am still exercising.  More strength-based moves are growing my muscles.   I’m cross-training by swimming a couple times a week.  My feet feel better and my nagging injuries are somewhat improved.  Recently, an article that taught me I am practicing periodization, or focusing on different goals at various points.  Who knew there was a term for this?  

So, Coach Anger: back off, and come back again in a few months.  You can yell and scream and tell me to go faster and stronger.  And then maybe I’ll listen to you and you can get me across the finish line.  But until then, shut it.