I am an expert at self sabotage.
No, really. I know what I need to do to succeed at a particular endeavor and yet, I don’t do it. Today I attempted a 7 mile run with the group – dehydrated, with a waning base, and no way to pace myself. It was a huge failure. Not because I couldn’t run it, but because I psyched myself out entirely. At mile 2.5 I turned around and went back to the parking lot, after spending a fair amount of time just plain lost. It was easy, because I was totally last. Yup, nobody behind me because I am so much slower than these people.
Of course, then I had to do the drive of shame and hope that no one recognized me or the van as I passed all the front runners on their way back in to the stadium. Ugh!
I came home, took a shower, and instead of using my perky citrus scented shower gel, chose one that smells like cherry blossoms and woodsmoke. To me, it is the smell of failure; but I couldn’t bear the cheery scent of “butterfly flower” after such a humiliating sef-defeat.
Why am I doing this? This half-commitment thing sucks. If I don’t find my will to do this very soon, I’m going to have to bag on the March race and lose the money.