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I’m trying really hard to get back on track without grandiose resolutions and personal expectations that will only depress me mid-year. I’m not even going to do the letter to my 2017 self about all the things we’re going to get done. I’m getting a little long in the tooth for that kind of optimism and it’s a lot harder to shrug off falling short than it used to be. The only thing I really want to do (consciously) in 2016 is run a half-marathon. No, I don’t know where yet and I really haven’t started looking, but I’d like for one to be in April-May and then if I’m feeling particularly senseless, maybe the Free Press (half) Marathon in October.

I spent part of December looking at training plans (because I love plans with lists and to-dos) and settled on a few with a solid strength training/running balances that I could flip between depending on my schedule. I organized my workout bag and set up a calendar in Google to keep me honest. Nike+Running and Nike Training Club (NTC) were being especially helpful with a 21 Day plan which fell nicely with my own goals. I was all ready to get this show on the road January 4, 2016. I was ready to feel fantastic in February.

You know the saying, when Man plans, the Gods laugh?

January 4, 2016 I did my first workout, the strength training portion. I chose the NTC Kick-Start workout, which was 19 minutes of torture and constant reminder of how far I’d let myself go. I got up early that morning, did my workout, lay on the floor for 10 minutes begging for air, finished my morning routine, and went to work.

I started feeling like maybe I was getting a cold about 3 pm and by 8 I was in bed with a swollen throat, the sweats, and a general feeling of impending death.

Tuesday’s run was obviously out, but I certainly felt the fruits of Monday’s workout. My hips, thighs, and core were shredded, and on top of that, I had a nasty respiratory infection. Coughing and peeing felt like being put to the rack. I called off work and prayed for death.

Wednesday, I felt marginally better, but not enough to send my germs to work, so I rested. Wednesday’s workout wouldn’t be done. With two days missed, I could effectively call of the start of working out until I felt better.

It’s demoralizing.

I took another week off because it was busy and I wanted to make sure I’d kick the cold completely, which brings us to yesterday, January 18, 2016.

I have a later shift at work this week, so getting up to do my strength core exercises and get out the door on time was easy-peasy on Monday.

This morning, I realized I have some time management skills to work on. I figure I can be up at 7, to the gym by 7:30 (it’s only a mile up the road, workout until a little after 8 am, and then have plenty of time to grab breakfast shower and be out the door on time.

Even with all of my workout clothes laid out, I still wasn’t out the door until 7:40 am. It too me 40 minutes to throw on sweats and boots and grab workout stuff. That’s disheartening. It’s especially unsettling because when I go back to my regular shift next week and it’s still taking me 40 min to go get sweaty, I’ll have to be up at 5 am.

5 am.

No.

I don’t have to tell anyone living in the vast space of America from the Mid-west to the Eastern Seaboard that Winter has arrived. It is cold and snowy and it’s still dark at unnatural times. For those of us that run as a primary means of primary exercise, this means we either bundle up and brave the chill for a few miles or we hit a gym.

I salute those that continue to run outside when the weather dips below 20 degrees and the snot freezes to your face and your extremities blacken from frostbite and your ankles and hips are sort from constant balance corrections on the hidden patches of ice. Your clear lunacy is the driving force behind your stamina, and when you blow by me in the summer with a blistering pace and thousand-yard stare, I’ll nod in appreciation.

Me, I prefer a gym in the winter. I hate treadmills, I do. They lack the outside part that I like about running. The treadmills at my gym have a wine